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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


'^^^€^  , 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

BY 

LORD  MACAULAY 


THE  MODERN 
STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

EACH  VOLUME  EDITED  BY  A  LEADING 
AMERICAN  AUTHORITY 

WILL  D.  HOWE,  General  Editor 

This  series  is  composed  of  such  works  as 
are  conspicuous  in  the  province  of  literature 
for  their  enduring  influence.  Every  volume 
is  recognized  as  essential  to  a  liberal  edu- 
cation'and  will  tend  to  infuse  a  love  for  true 
literature  and  an  appreciation  of  the  quali- 
ties which  cause  it  to  endure. 

A  descriptive  list  of  the  volumes  published  in 

this  series  appears-in  the  last  pages 

oj  this  volume 

CHi\RLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 


HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

BY 

LORD  MACAULAY 


SELECTED   WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION   BY 

CHARLES  DOWXER  HAZEN 

FHOFESSOa    OK    HISTOHV    AT    COI.VJIBIA    UNIVKHSITY 


CHARLES  SCRIHNKRS  SONS 

NEW    YORK  CHICAGO  BOSTON 


Copyright,  1921,  by 

CHARLES  SCKIBXER'S  SONS 

A 


-DA 

27 


h 


CONTEXTS 


PAGE 

JoHX  Hampden 

1 

William  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham 

.       .         55 

The  Earl   of   Chatham       .... 

.       .        99 

Lord    Clive •  • 

.       .       184 

Warren  Hastings           

359 

Maciilwelli 

.       .'393 

Frederick  the  Great 

.        .        429 

i 

ft 


INTRODUCTION 

One  of  the  three  or  four  most  fascinating  biographies  in 
the  English  language  is  that  of  Thomas  Babington 
Macaulay  written  by  his  nephew,  George  Otto  Trevelyan, 
with  consummate  tact  and  taste  and  literary  art.  The 
story  is  as  full  of  interest  as  any  that  Macaulay  himself 
ever  told  during  a  lifetime  devoted  to  historical  narration. 
It  contains  the  record  of  a  great  and  honorable  career, 
a  manly  and  generous  character,  a  versatile  and  vari- 
ously attractive  personality.  That  career  and  those  ex- 
ceptional endowments  were  devoted  to  tasks  that  meant 
the  enrichment  of  the  intellectual  life,  not  only  of  his 
own  country  and  generation,  but  of  many  other  countries 
and  of  generations  not  yet  counted.  Nothing  could  be 
more  instructive  or  more  stimulating  than  this  story  of 
how  Macaulay  became  P'ngland's  most  widely  read  his- 
torian, of  how  his  talents  and  his  time  were  fused  in 
a  great  intellectual  enterprise,  the  success  of  which  ren- 
dered him  a  classic  while  yet  he  was  alive,  the  continued 
and  universal  popularity  of  which  attests  the  enduring 
quality  of  his  work,  the  permanciu-y  of  his  influence  :iiul 
his  fame.  Macaulay  knew  liow  to  invest  his  wf)rk  with 
the  magic  that  presen-es,  that  defies  oblivion  and  neglect, 
the  magic  of  style,  the  immortality  nf  art. 

What  a  remarkable  life  was  Macaulay's,  what  variety, 
what  achievement,  what  enjoyment,  what  renown!  He 
moved  ever  in  a  blaze  of  success  from  early  youth  to  the 
end  of  his  life.  One  of  the  world's  prr'foeious  children, 
he  quiekly  beeame  one  of  the  world's  celebrities,  univers- 
ally respected  and  admired.  His  career  compels  us  to 
revise  our  apothegm  that  only  through  adversity  dtt  we 
rise  to  the  heights,  for,  from  lieginiiiiig  to  end,  fortune 
never  veiled  her  face  for  him  but  smiled  graciously  and 
benignantly,  was  never  fickle  but  was  constancy  itself. 
And  another  engaging  feature  of  the  story   is  this,  that 

V 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

his  successes  were  due  to  his  own  efforts  and  talents  and 
not  to  powerful  connections  or  lucky  patronage  or  adven- 
titious circumstance.  He  made  and  paid  his  own  way  in 
life.  His  achievements  were  the  product  of  hard  work, 
of  clear  thought,  of  intense  application  to  the  task.  In- 
deed all  the  supposed  requirements  of  our  democratic 
and  popular  morality  were  as  well  satisfied  by  Macaulay's 
career  as  by  most  of  the  home-made  heroes  of  the  mod- 
ern age. 

Macaulay  was  bom  in  1800  and  he  died  in  1859.  A 
brilliant  university  career  was  capped  immediately  after 
by  an  essay  on  Milton,  written  at  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
an  essay  of  such  beauty  and  power  that  England  became 
instantly  aware  that  a  new  and  incalculable  literary  light 
was  blazing  in  the  firmament  of  English  letters.  At  the 
age  of  thirty  we  find  him  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons  playing  a  notable  part  in  the  desperate  and 
memorable  struggle  for  the  reform  of  Parliament,  and 
establishing  a  reputation  as  an  orator  as  easily  as  he  had 
established  one  as  an  author.  Soon  followed  four  years 
as  a  high  official  in  India,  the  vast,  mysterious,  imposing 
empire  so  strangely  brought  under  the  sovereignty  of 
Britain.  There  in  that  ancient  land  Macaulay  accom- 
plished an  enduring  and  difficult  task,  in  participating  in 
the  great  improvement  of  the  criminal  law  of  India  and 
in  providing  for  the  education  of  the  Indian  people. 
Back  again  in  England  in  1838  he  spent  the  next  twenty 
years,  until  his  death  in  1859,  in  politics,  in  which  his 
interest  was  recurrent  but  on  the  whole  steadily  decreas- 
ing; and  in  varied,  prolific  and  memorable  literary  ac- 
tivity, of  such  attractive  quality,  of  such  compelling 
interest,  of  such  vital  appeal,  that  he  became  inevitably 
England's  most  widely  read  man  of  letters.  For  his 
writings  which  had  made  him  both  famous  and  wealthy 
and  which  had  given  entertainment  and  instruction  to 
millions  of  his  fellow  men  he  was  made  a  peer  of  England, 
Lord  Macaulay,  in  1850,  and  when  he  died  three  years 
later  he  was  buried  in  the  Poet's  Corner  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  at  the  feet  of  Addison  and  near  Goldsmith  and 
Garrick  and  Handel  and  Johnson,  honored  in  death  as  in 
life  with  the  high  prizes  of  his  calling. 
■"     About  this  life,  so  rich  and  so  honorable,  whether  in 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

Parliament  or  Council  or  whether  in  the  field  of  letters, 
there  hung  a  charm  and  radiance  more  personal,  more 
intimate,  more  winning,  which  came  from  the  very  human 
and  engaging  nature  of  the  man,  from  his  buoyancy,  his 
good  humor  and  manly  vigor,  his  helpfulness  to  others, 
his  lack  of  affection  or  vanity.  His  head  remained  clear 
in  spite  of  the  heavy  volume  of  incense  that  arose  in  his 
direction.  In  the  private  relations  of  his  life,  in  his 
steadfast  devotion  to  clean  and  upright  principles  of  con- 
duct, in  the  virility  and  high  spirits  which  characterized 
both  his  thoughts  and  actions  Macaulay  was  altogether 
admirable  and  attractive.  He  was  not  only  an  imposing 
personage  in  the  politics  and  literature  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  He  was  every  inch  a  man.  His  rare  gifts  were 
not  those  only  which  shine  in  public  places  and  before 
a  multitude  of  men.  ]f  the  reader  wishes  to  know  more 
of  all  this  he  will  find  it  pleasantly  set  forth  in  Mr. 
Trevelyan's  bright   and  blithe  biography. 

"During  his  joyous  and  shining  ])ilgrimage  through 
the  world,"  as  Trevelyan  calls  it,  Macaulay  did  many  things 
and  did  them  all  well.  But  among  them  was  not  in- 
cluded eminence  in  any  sport.  Macaulay,  says  his  bi- 
ographer, was  utterly  destitute  of  bodily  accomplishments 
and  he  viewed  his  deficiencies  with  supreme  indilTerence. 
"He  couhl  neitlier  swim,  nor  row,  nor  drive,  nor  skate, 
nor  shoot.  He  seldom  crossed  a  .saddle,  and  never  will- 
ingly. When  in  atteiidanee  at  Windsor  as  a  cabinet 
minister  he  was  informed  that  a  horse  was  at  his  disposal, 
he  said :  'If  her  Majesty  wishes  to  see  me  ride  she  must 
order  out  an  elejdiant.'  The  only  e.xereise  in  whi«li  he 
can  be  sai<l  to  have  e.xcelled  was  that  of  tbreading  crowded 
streets  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  book.  He  might  Iw 
seen  in  sneh  tbftroiiglifnres  as  O.xford  Street  and  (Mieaji- 
side,  walking  as  fast  as  other  people  walked,  and  reading 
a  great  deal  faster  than  anybody  else  could  read." 

But  this  young  man  wbosr-  athletic  exploits  were  limited 
to  these  literary  jx-ripatetics  was  destined  to  write  books 
which  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  his  fellow- 
men  were  to  read  as  eagerly  as  he  read  the  works  of  others 
while  threading  the  streets  and  lanes  of  London,  and  with 
quite  as  much  absorption  owing  to  the  powerful  spell 
which   he  wielded  through  his  pen.     Macaulay's  Essays, 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

Macaulay's  History  are  works  which  have  been  accounted 
treasures  by  three  generations  of  men  and  whose  course 
shows  few  signs  of  having  yet  been  run. 

It  is  with  the  former  that  we  are  here  concerned.  Lord 
Morley  in  his  well-known  study  of  Macaulay  written  about 
a  half  a  century  ago  mentions  the  fact  a  traveler  recently 
returned  from  Australia  declared  that  the  three  books 
which  he  found  on  every  squatter's  shelf  and  which  at 
least  he  knew  before  he  crossed  the  threshold  that  he 
would  be  sure  to  find  were  Shakespeare,  the  Bible  and 
Macaulay's  Essays.  "And  this,"  says  Morley,  "is  only 
an  illustration  of  a  feeling  about  Macaulay  which  has 
been  almost  universal  among  the  English-speaking  peo- 
ples." "We  may  safely  say,"  he  adds,  "that  no  man  ob- 
tains and  keeps  for  a  great  many  years  such  a  position 
as  this,  unless  he  is  possessed  of  some  very  extraordinary 
qualities,  or  else  of  common  qualities  in  a  very  uncommon 
and  extraordinary  degree."  "If  Macaulay  did  not  invent 
the  historical  essay,"  writes  Mr.  Gooch,  the  critical  and 
penetrating  historian  of  the  historical  writing  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  "he  found  it  of  brick  and  left  it  of 
marble.  His  articles  glitter  like  diamonds  in  the  dusty 
pages  of  the  Edinhurgh  Review.  .  .  .  What  Shakespeare's 
plays  achieved  for  the  fifteenth  century,  Macaulay's  essays 
accomplished  for  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth.  He  was 
the  first  English  writer  to  make  history  universally  in- 
teresting and  it  is  from  him  that  most  of  his  countrymen 
still  derive  their  enduring  impressions.  ...  A  work  which 
appeals  to  men  of  all  races,  and  which  has  held  its  own 
for  three  generations  must  possess  extraordinary  merits." 

Another  comment  worthy  of  quotation  is  that  of  Mori- 
son,  like  Morley  and  Gooch,  a  discriminating  and  severe 
critic  of  literature  and  of  Macaulay  himself:  "The  origi- 
nality of  form  and  treatment  which  Macaulay  gave  to  the 
historical  essay  has  not,  perhaps,  received  due  considera- 
tion. Without  having  invented  it,  he  so  greatly  expanded 
and  improved  it  that  he  deserves  nearly  as  much  credit 
as  if  he  had.  He  did  for  the  historical  essay  what  Haydn 
did  for  the  sonata,  and  Watt  for  the  steam-engine;  he 
found  it  rudimentary  and  unimportant,  and  he  left  it 
complete  and  a  thing  of  power.  Before  his  time  there 
was  the  ponderous  history — generally  in  quarto — and  there 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

■was  the  antiquarian  dissertation.  There  was  also  the  his- 
torical review,  containing  alternate  pages  of  extract  and 
comment — generally  rather  dull  and  gritty.  But  the  his- 
torical essay  as  he  conceived  it,  and  with  the  prompt  in- 
spiration of  a  real  discoverer  immediately  put  into 
practical  shape,  was  as  good  as  unknown  before  him. 
To  take  a  bright  period  or  personage  of  history,  to  frame 
it  in  a  firm  outline,  to  conceive  it  at  once  in  article-size, 
and  then  to  fill  in  the  limited  canvas  with  sparking  anec- 
dote, telling  bits  of  color,  and  facts  all  fused  together 
by  a  real  genius  for  narrative,  was  the  sort  of  genre- 
painting  which  Macaulay  applied  to  history.  We  have 
only  to  turn  the  back  numbers  of  the  Edinburgh  Review 
to  perceive  how  his  articles  gleam  in  those  old  pages  of 
'gray  paper  and  blunt  type.'  And  to  this  day  his  Essays 
remain  the  best  of  their  class,  not  only  in  England  but 
in  Europe.  .  .  .  How  many  persons,  outside  the  class 
of  professed  students,  know  much  of  Lord  Chatham,  Lord 
Clivc,  Warren  Hastings,  Walpole,  Pulteney,  Cartaret  and 
many  more,  beyond  what  tliey  learn  from  the  pages  of 
Macaulay?" 

Most  of  the  Essays  were  published  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review,  the  resonant  organ  of  the  Whigs.  The  last  of 
these  aiipeared  in  1S44  l)y  which  time  Macaulay's  work 
on  th(!  Uislory  of  Knglaud  had  become  exclusivi'  and 
all-absorbing.  The  Essays  -vere  generally  composed  witli 
great  rajiidity  for  tliat  was  Macaulay's  hal)it,  haviTig  filled 
his  mind  with  his  sulijeet.  to  the  exclusion  of  everytliing 
else,  to  write,  when  the  time  came,  with  extraordinary  con- 
centration of  iiiiiid.  He  said  of  himself  that  be  knew  no 
one  who  conld  and  did  labor  with  such  speed  as  him- 
self, and  he  was  not  given  to  boasting.  Hut  the  rai)idity 
of  execution  did  not  mean  carelessness  or  slovenliness 
in  workmanshij).  While  sometimes  Macanlay's  researeh 
was  none  too  extensive  his  attention  to  the  structure  and 
form  of  his  composition  was  always  close  and  most  fas- 
tidious. He  could  not  rest  content  with  the  feeling 
that  this  or  that  part  of  his  study  was  poorly  constriicted, 
that  tlie  transitions  from  one  stage  in  the  development 
to  others  were  clumsy  or  abrupt  or  inefTectivi'.  that  tin; 
sentences  might  have  been  l>etter  i)lirased.  lli  liad  the 
capacity  for  taking  infinite  i)ains.      lie  paid  the  supreme 


X  INTRODUCTION 

compliment  to  his  reader  of  considering  that  the  latter 
was  entitled  to  the  very  best,  and  not  to  the  second  best. 
The  purpose  which  he  expressed  when  he  undertook  the 
writing  of  his  History  was  practically  the  same  that  had 
governed  him  in  the  production  of  his  Essays:  "I  shall 
not  be  satisfied  unless  I  produce  something  which  shall 
for  a  few  days  supersede  the  last  fashionable  novel  on 
the  tables  of  young  ladies."  He  well  knew  that  so 
unique  a  triumph  could  be  achieved  only  by  one  who 
brought  not  only  talent  and  self-reliance  to  the  task  bvit 
endless  devotion  to  detail,  an  extreme  conscientiousness 
in  matters  of  expression.  Macaulay  learned  by  experience 
that  about  two  pages  of  print  a  day  were  as  much  as  he 
could  do  at  his  best,  and  except  when  at  his  best  he 
would  not  work  at  all.  His  successes  were  legitimate,  if 
ever  successes  were,  for  they  were  based  on  prodigies  of 
labor,  and  on  the  most  studied  craftsmanship.  It  was 
evidently  his  motto  that  what  was  worth  doing  at  all 
was  worth  doing  well.  "Macaulay,"  says  Trevelyan, 
"never  allowed  a  sentence  to  pass  muster  until  it  was  as 
good  as  he  could  make  it.  He  thought  little  of  recasting 
a  chapter  in  order  to  obtain  a  more  lucid  arrangement,  and 
nothing  whatever  of  reconstructing  a  paragraph  for  the 
sake  of  one  happy  stroke  or  apt  illustration.  Whatever 
the  worth  of  his  labor,  at  any  rate  it  was  a  labor  of  love. 
'Antonio  Stradivari  has  an  eye 
That  winces  at  false  work,  and  loves  the  true.' 
Leonardo  da  Vinci  would  walk  the  whole  length  of  Milan 
that  he  might  alter  a  single  tint  in  his  picture  of  the 
Last  Supper.  Napoleon  kept  the  returns  of  his  army 
under  his  pillow  at  night,  to  refer  to  in  case  he  was  sleep- 
less; and  would  set  himself  problems  at  the  Opera,  while 
the  overture  was  playing." 

Such  and  such  only  is  the  royal  road  to  fame,  a  very 
dusty  and  rocky  road,  hard  for  the  pilgrim,  but  command- 
ing at  the  other  end  a  magnificent  prospect.  Macaulay 
could  not  rest  content  "until  every  paragraph  concluded 
with  a  telling  sentence,  and  every  sentence  flowed  like 
running  water." 

The  man  who  would  take  such  pains  in  the  perfecting 
of  his  work  was  an  artist,  and  an  artist  with  a  con- 
science.   Macaulay  has  merited  and  has  received  the  great 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

gratitude  and  regard  of  mankind.  The  clarity  of  his 
style  is  but  the  formal  expression  of  the  clarity  of  his 
thought  and  both  rested  upon  intellectual  integrity  and 
upon  a  lively  sense  of  the  responsibility  an  author  owes 
his  public. 

This  man  who  could  labor  terribly  and  who  never  spared 
himself  in  his  passion  for  finish  of  form  was  aided  enor- 
mously all  through  life  by  a  priceless  possession,  namely 
an  extraordinary   memory.     It   is   somewhat  common   in 
these  days   to   depreciate   this   precious   faculty   as   if  it 
were  something  inert,  mechnical,  low.     It  would  be  dif- 
ficult, however,  to  name  any  mental  quality  which  would 
be  more  variously  useful  to   an   historian,   better   calcu- 
lated  to  enrich  his   work,   to  facilitate   his   productivity. 
This  gift  Macaulay  possessed  in  altogether  extraordinary 
measure.     It  is  was  as  easy  for  him  to  remember  as  it 
is  for  most  people  to  forgot  and  it  seems  to  have  been 
nearly  impossible  for  him  to  forget  anything.     Whatever 
he  read  he  retained  with  unconscious  ease  and,  as  he  read 
voraciously,   the    result   was   a   remarkable   accumulation 
of  knowledge,  always   at   hand  to  be  drawn   upon.     The 
great  richness  of  Macaulay's  style  in  allusions,  compari- 
sons, illustrations  owes  much  to  this  unrivalled  and  easy 
command    of    all    his    variegated    resources.       Whatever 
passed  into  his  mind  rcmiiiucd  there.     The  tales  that  are 
told  of  this  capacity  of  his  have  Ijecome  classic  and  legend- 
ary.    At  the   age   of   thirteen    while   waiting  for  a   mail 
coach  he  picked  up  a  country  ncwspajx-r  and  ran  across 
two   utterly   commoni)la<'e   and    insignificant   poems    con- 
tributed  by  local    bards.     lie  merely   glanced    them    over 
once  and   never  again    thought  of   tlicin   for  forty  years, 
when   he  repeated   them   word  for  word.     Challenged  on 
one  orcnsion   to   a   feat  of  mrniorv  he  wrote  out   a   com- 
plete list  of  the  senior  wranglers  ;it  ('aniliridgc,  with  their 
dates  and  colleges  for  a  hundred  years.     On  another  oc- 
casion    when     asked :     "Macaulay,     do    you     know    your 
Popes?"   he  replied   "No,  1   always  get  wrong  among   the 
Innocents."     "Jiut  can  you  say  your  Archl)ishop8  of  Can- 
terbury?"     "Any    ff)ol,"    said    Macanlay.    "could    say    his 
Archbishops  of  Canterbury  backwiirds."  and  olV  he  went, 
drawing  breath  only  once  to  remark  on  the  oddity  of  there 
having  been  both  an  Archbishop  Sancroft  and  an   Arch- 


xii  INTKODUCTION 

bishop  Bancroft.  He  once  remarked  that  if  by  some 
devastating  wave  of  vandalism  every  copy  in  existence  of 
"Paradise  Lost,"  "The  Pilgrim's  Progress"  and  "Sir 
Charles  Grandison"  were  destroyed  he  could  reproduce 
them  from  recollection.  He  was  naturally  proud  of  his 
good  memo,ry  and  had  no  patience  with  people  who  seemed 
to  pride  themselves  on  having  a  bad  one.  "They  appear 
to  reason  thus;  the  more  memory,  the  less  invention," 
was  his  observation. 

Macaulay  possessed  another  endowment  not  much  in- 
ferior to  this,  in  enabling  him  to  go  far  in  the  world 
of  letters,  an  extraordinary  faculty  of  assimilating  printed 
matter  at  first  sight.  "To  the  end,"  says  Trevelyan,  "he 
read  books  faster  than  other  people  skimmed  them,  and 
skimmed  them  as  fast  as  any  one  else  could  turn  the 
leaves.  'He  seemed  to  read  through  the  skin,'  said  one 
who  had  often  watched  the  operation.  And  this  speed 
was  not  in  his  case  obtained  at  the  expense  of  accuracy." 

With  such  endowments  Macaulay  could  and  did  acquire 
an  amazingly  extensive  knowledge,  and  this  knowledge 
he  gave  forth  to  the  world  in  his  "Essays"  and  his  "His- 
tory." And  the  world  heard  him  gladly  reading  what 
he  wrote  with  an  avidity  and  a  persistence  rare,  indeed 
unmatched,  in  the  history  of  historians. 

He  had  several  .supreme  merits  as  a  writer  of  history. 
One  was  that  he  was  a  born  story-teller.  He  places  the 
reader,  as,  before  writing,  he  has  placed  himself,  in  the 
ve.ry  center  of  the  scenes  and  amid  the  persons  whom  he 
is  attempting  to  portray.  No  detail  of  local  color,  or 
of  individual  indiosyncrasy  escapes  his  attention.  The 
very  spirit  of  the  times,  as  well  as  its  grosser  mani- 
festations, is  evoked  by  an  imagination  which  is  strong 
and  yet  which  is  controlled  by  a  firm  judgment.  Every 
page  that  Macaulay  wrote,  every  sentence,  is  made  to  add 
something  significant  and  special  to  the  picture  which  we 
can  watch  grow  under  our  very  eyes,  Macaulay's  process- 
es of  literary  construction  being  almost  as  transparent  as 
are  his  sentences.  The  secret  of  his  power  lies  in  the 
fact  that  he  imparts  to  others  his  own  living  visualiza- 
tion of  the  scenes  and  characters  of  the  past.  What  he 
sees  intensely,  what  he  feels  keenly,  the  reader  sees  and 
feels  with  similar  vividness  and  force.     History  becomes 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

something  quite  palpable,  almost  tangible,  palpitating, 
painful  sometimes,  magnificent  often,  throbbing  and 
thrilling  always.  To  make  the  dead  and  dry  leaves  of 
the  year  that  is  gone  leap  to  their  places  on  the  tree  again 
and  tingle  once  more  with  life  and  beauty  would  be  a 
thing  no  more  miraculous  than  the  thing  Macaulay  did. 
Some  of  the  most  sumptuous  and  gorgeous  passages  in 
English  literature  are  his  creations  fashioned  out  of 
material  that  to  the  ordinary  man  would  seem  as  dry  as 
dust.  Such  thaumaturgy  is  so  rare  in  the  historical  field 
as  to  be  very  noteworthy. 

Not  only  did  Macaulay  have  this  sense  of  the  lively,  the 
vital,  he  had  the  dramatic  sense  in  equal  measure,  the 
instinct  for  subordination  and  arrangement  of  details  so 
that  the  central  figure  or  scene  should  stand  forth,  not  in 
lonely  isolation  and  grandeur,  but  in  proper  setting,  sur- 
rounded, but  not  obscured  or  confused,  by  the  lesser 
figures  or  incidents;  the  colors  heightened,  the  lights  con- 
centrated where  they  should  be.  Drawing  on  the  inex- 
haustible resources  of  his  ])rodigious  memory,  and  on  the 
instructive  exix'rienccs  of  his  own  political  career,  he  is 
able  to  enrich  his  narrative  with  a  breadth  of  treatment, 
with  a  variety  of  comparisons,  analogies  and  illustrations 
unmatched  elsewhere.  The  result  is  that  the  scene  is  al- 
ways c-baiigiiig  or  ai)p('aring  under  a  new  aspect  or  in  a 
new  light,  and  never  becomes  tedious.  His  series  of  his- 
torical j)Miiitiiigs  includes  a  nmltifudc  of  figures,  big  and 
litth",  for  where  the  sitter  is  not  worthy  of  a  full  Icngtli 
presentment,  he  is  given  his  due  in  some  small  study,  a 
head,  or  a  head  and  shoulflers.  Pictorial  history  liere 
reaches  its  apogee — magnificent  panoramas,  a  spacious 
gallery  of  portraits,  and  an  endless  collection  of  minia- 
tures aiul  vignettes  filling  in  the  spaces  which  would 
otherwise  be  vacant.  No  Knglisli  historian  except  Carlyle 
has  equalled  Macaulay  in  this  branch  of  his  craft,  as  a 
painter  of   niiforgcttablc   jiictiircs. 

Most  of  Macaulay 's  h'ssai/.s  were  written  when  be  was 
quite  .young,  in  the  thirties  or  early  forties,  and  they 
have  tlie  fpialities  that  we  associate  with  youtb,  tlie  high 
spirits,  tbe  movement,  the  dash,  tlie  l)rilliant  animation, 
the  vigor  and  the  strength,  the  enjoyment  of  the  con- 
crete, the  dislike  of  the  abstruse,  the  humor  at  times  too 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

pointed  and  too  personal,  the  repartee  at  times  too  brutal. 
There  is  an  exhilaration  in  the  air,  an  excitement  in  the 
situation  that  are  characteristic  of  those  places  where 
the  youn^  are  wont  to  congregate.  Macaulay  had  an- 
other quality  that  is  shown  in  all  his  writings,  his  sense 
of  absolute  certainty.  Once  he  takes  pen  in  hand  he  has 
no  doubts  o,r  hesitations,  all  is  clear  and  emphatic,  and 
no  writer  is  less  subtle,  less  fond  of  divided  or  suspended 
judgments.  Lord  Melbourne,  with  the  irony  of  the  ex- 
perienced and  disillusioned  man  of  the  world,  hit  off  this 
trait  once  for  all,  this  overweening  self-confidence,  when 
he  said  that  he  wished  he  were  as  cocksure  of  anything 
as  Macaulay  was  of  everything.  No  twilight  of  dubiety 
ever  hovers  ove.r  a  page  of  Macaulay.  Everything  is  clean- 
cut,  trenchant,  emphatic,  downright.  Now  this,  of 
course,  is  a  defect  in  an  author  who  has  to  deal  with 
such  miscellaneous  and  variegated  material  as  does  the 
historian.  Not  everything  is  clear  and  certain  and  after 
all  one's  investigations  are  over  and  all  one's  powers  of 
reflection  and  analysis  have  been  directed  upon  a  given 
subject,  much  remains  necessarily  somewhat  uncertain, 
more  or  less  obscure,  judgment  must  be  more  or  less  ten- 
tative, there  is  often  insistent  need  of  being  on  one's 
guard  against  the  emphatic,  there  is  always  a  need  of  nice 
reserve  in  the  use  of  pronounced  colors,  always  need  of 
light  and  shade  applied  discriminatingly  and  with  cau- 
tion. 

But  for  that  we  do  not  go  to  Macaulay.  For  him  vehe- 
mence, passion,  the  sledge-hammer  blow,  the  extravagant 
phrase  of  laudation  and  denunciation.  Macaulay  always 
gives  you  reasons  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him  but  he 
never  leaves  you  in  any  doubt  as  to  what  that  faith  is. 
You  always  know  just  where  he  stands  and  you  are  never 
for  an  instant  left  wondering  as  to  why  he  came  there. 
Unhappily  he  sometimes   came  there  by  mistake. 

The  Essays  are  of  various  kinds  and  value.  Many  of 
them  concern  the  great  figures  in  the  history  of  England 
during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  These 
are,  on  the  whole,  the  most  important,  for  in  this  field 
Macaulay  was  most  at  home.  They  cover  the  period 
fairly  well  from  the  time  of  Elizabeth  down  nearly  to 
the  close  of  the  reign  of  George  III,  the  period  of  great 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

and  momentous  constitutional  struggles,  of  the  contest  of 
the  monarchy  and  the  parliament  for  supremacy  in  the 
state ;  also  the  period  which  witnessed  the  marvelous  es- 
tablishment of  the  English  control  of  India,  of  England'"s 
entrance  into  the  fabled  East.  It  was  an  heroic  age  which 
Macaulay  illuminated  by  his  genius.  , 

Macaulay  wrote  always  from  the  Whig  point  of  view. 
His  sympathies  were  pronounced  and  constant  and  they 
are  not  hidden  for  a  moment  from  the  reader.  The  Whigs 
and  Tories  were  wrestling  in  fierce  and  bitter  fashion 
for  their  respective  principles  and  their  warfare  was  over 
fundamentals.  The  existence  and  nature  of  English 
liberty,  parliamenta,ry,  individual,  representative,  were 
at  stake.  Few  moderns  would  deny  that  the  triumph  of 
the  Whigs  was  the  triumph  of  freedom.  It  is  the  vicis- 
situdes of  this  long  and  wracking  struggle,  of  this  period 
of  violent  and  profoundly  significant  contention,  that 
Macaulay  recounts  with  minute  and  extensive  knowledge, 
and  with  unexampled  vigor  of  language  and  pomp  of 
style.  He  writes  frankly  from  the  Whig  point  of  view 
and  he  pronounces  judgment  and  delivers  verdicts  with 
truly  magisterial  assurance.  Jiut  this  does  not  at  all 
mean  that  he  is  intentionally  unfair,  that  he  suppresses 
evidence  if  he  dislikes  it,  tliat  he  garbles  and  twists  in 
order  to  prove  his  point,  that  he  wilfully  misrepresents. 
Macaulay  was  an  honest  and  an  honorable  advocate  and 
there  is  distinct  advantage  in  having  a  great  struggle 
for  liberty  i)owerfulIy  jiresented  by  one  who  profoundly 
believed  in  the  importance  of  the  issues  at  stake  and  who 
was  greatly  stirred  liy  the  reeurrent  and  desperate  crises, 
the  tense  dnunatic;  situatif)ns,  wliicli  developerl  as  the 
long  anrl  arduous  contest  proceeded.  Macaulay  made 
errors,  just  as  erinined  judges  sometimes  do.  I'.nt  bo 
was  above  board,  his  temper  was  generally  fair.  He  lays 
the  proofs  before  you  and  while  he  has  his  own  views 
of  the  matter  and  expresses  them  witli  eini)basis,  the 
reader  is  given  the  evidence  frankly  and  may  dissent  from 
the  finding  if  he  chooses.  Macaulay's  version  of  English 
history  is  the  Whig  version,  a  version,  moreover,  very 
widely  and  stoutly  held  to-day  in  the  liberal  circles  of  the 
world.  The  essays  reproduced  in  this  volume  present 
some  of  the  great,  outstanding  figures  and  the  mighty  ar- 


xvi  INTRODUCTION 

guments  in  this  memorable  civic  and  political  controversy. 

The  two  essays  on  Olive  and  Warren  Hastings  are  of 
a  diflFerent  character.  They  portray  a  momentous  chapter 
in  British  imperial  history  and  abound  in  striking  ad- 
venture and  in  the  display  of  remarkable  personal  quali- 
ties operating  upon  a  vast  and  mysterious  stage.  They 
are  written  with  a  pomp  and  pageantry  worthy  of  the 
gorgeous  East  they  celebrate.  Immensely  popular  for 
three  generations  their  fascination  seems  as  powerful  as 
ever,  the  magnificence  of  the  scene,  the  play  of  personality, 
the  sweep  of  the  destinies  involved,  still  arrest  the  at- 
tention and  hold  it  captive.  It  will  be  long  before  these 
essays  die. 

Macaulay's  knowledge  of  the  history  of  Continental 
Europe  was  much  less  extensive  and  much  less  sure  than 
that  of  his  own  country.  Two  of  the  more  famous  essays, 
those  on  Machiavelli  and  Frederick  the  Great,  are  included 
in  this  collection.  The  studies  of  English  men  of  letters, 
Bunyan,  Byron,  Johnson,  Bacon,  Addison  lie  outside  the 
scope  of  this  volume  which  is  devoted  to  the  historical 
and  not  to  the  literary  essays. 

Macaulay's  Essays  are,  of  course,  of  unequal  value, 
No  one  was  more  astonished  than  he  at  their  popularity. 
Written  for  the  most  part  for  a  quarterly  review,  he 
thought  they  would  enjoy  the  usual  fate  of  magazine  lit- 
erature. The  natural  life  of  such  articles,  he  said,  was 
only  six  weeks.  When  in  1842  his  publisher  urged  him 
to  have  them  reprinted  in  book  form  he  was  indisposed 
to  do  so  and  only  yielded  in  the  end  because  American 
publishers  were  l)ringing  out  defective  editions  without 
his  preliminary  knowledge  or  consent.  "Now,  I  know," 
he  wrote,  "that  these  pieces  are  full  of  faults  and  that 
their  popularity  has  been  very  far  beyond  their  merit; 
but  if  they  are  to  be  republished,  it  would  be  better  that 
they  should  be  republished  under  the  eye  of  the  author, 
and  with  his  corrections,  than  that  they  should  retain 
all  the  blemishes  inseparable  from  hasty  writing  and 
hasty  printing."  And  when  the  first  edition  of  the  Essays 
in  book  form  finally  appeared  in  1843  he  wrote:  "My 
collected  reviews  have  succeeded  well.  Longmans  tells 
me  that  he  must  set  about  a  second  edition.  In  spite, 
however,   of  the   applause   and   of   the   profit,   neither  of 


IXTRODFCTION  xvii 

wliich  I  despise,  I  am  sorry  that  it  has  become  necessary  to 
republish  these  papws.  There  are  few  of  them  which  I  read 
with  satisfaction.  Those  few,  however,  are  generally  the 
latest,  and  this  is  a  consolatory  circumstance.  The  most 
hostile  critic  must  admit,  I  think,  that  I  have  improved 
greatly  as  a  writer.  The  third  volume  seems  to  me  worth 
two  of  the  second,  and  the  second  worth  ten  of  the  first." 

Macaulay  would  have  been  surprised,  indeed,  had  ho 
known  of  the  steady  demand  for  his  Essaus  in  the  decades 
to  come.  Edition  after  edition  has  been  brought  out  in 
England  and  America  and  on  the  Continent  and  in  India. 
Trevelyan,  writing  seventeen  years  after  Macaulay's  death 
and  thirty-three  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  first 
edition  in  England,  says  this :  "These  productions,  which 
their  author  classed  as  ephemeral,  are  so  greedily  read 
and  so  constantly  reproduced,  that,  taking  the  world  as 
a  whole,  there  is  probably  never  a  moment  when  they  are 
out  of  the  hands  of  the  compositor.  The  market  for  them 
in  their  native  country  is  so  steady,  and  apparently  so 
inexhaustible,  that  it  ])erc('ptibly  falls  and  rises  with  the 
general  prosperity  of  the  nation;  and  it  is  hardly  too  much 
to  assert  that  the  demand  for  ^facaulay  varies  with  the 
demand  for  coal.  The  astonishing  success  of  this  cele- 
brated book  must  be  regarded  as  something  of  far  higher 
consequence  than  a  mere  literary  or  commercial  triuiiii)li. 
It  is  no  insignificant  feat  to  have  awakened  in  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  minds  the  taste  for  letters  and  the  yearn- 
ing for  kiiDwlcdgc;  and  to  have  shown  by  example  that, 
in  the  interests  of  its  own  fame,  genius  can  never  be  so 
well  employed  as  on  the  careful  and  earnest  treatment  of 
serious  themes." 

We  may  quote  as  a  final  comment  the  criticism  of  a 
fastidious  and  discriminating  critic,  Lord  Morley :  "Jlin 
Essays  are  as  good  as  a  library;  they  make  an  inconi- 
paral)le  manual  and  vade-mecum  for  a  busy,  uneducated 
man,  who  has  curiosity  and  enlightenment  enougli  to 
wish  to  kiiDW  a  little  about  the  great  lives  and  great 
thoughts,  the  shining  words  and  many-eolored  complex- 
ities of  action,  that  have  marked  the  journey  of  man 
thrf>ugli  the  ages." 

Chahles  Downer  Hazen. 
Columbia  TTniversity 


HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 


JOHN  HAMPDEN.     (December,  1831.) 

Some  Memorials  of  John  Hampden,  his  Party,  and  his  Times. 
By  Lord  Nugent.    2  vols.     8vo.     London:     183L 

We  have  read  this  hook  with  great  pleasure,  though  not 
exactly  with  that  kind  of  pleasure  which  we  had  expected. 
We  had  hoped  that  Lord  Nugent  would  have  been  able  to 
collect,  from  family  papers  and  local  traditions,  much  new 
and  interesting  information  respecting  the  life  and  char- 
acter of  the  renowned  leader  of  the  Long  Parliament,  the 
first  of  those  great  English  commoners  whose  plain  addi- 
tion of  Mister  has,  to  our  ears,  a  more  majestic  sound  than 
the  proudest  of  the  feudal  titles.  In  tliis  hope  we  have 
been  disappointed;  but  assuredly  not  from  any  want  of 
zeal  or  diligence  on  the  part  of  the  noble  biographer.  Even 
at  PLimpden,  there  are,  it  seems,  no  important  papers 
rebitiny-  to  the  most  illiistrio\is  propri(>tor  of  that  ancient 
domain.  The  most  valnalile  memorials  f)f  him  wliicli  still 
exist,  belong  to  the  family  of  his  friend.  Sir  John  Eliot. 
Lord  Eliot  lias  furnished  the  jjortrait  wbi<'h  is  engraved 
ff»r  this  work,  together  with  somi'  very  interesting  b'ttera. 
The  portrait  is  undoubtedly  an  original,  and  prol)al)ly  the 
only  original  now  in  existence.  The  intelleetual  forehead, 
the  mild  penetration  of  the  eye,  and  the  inllexilde  resolu- 
tion expressed  by  the  lines  of  the  mouth,  Kufficiently 
guarantee  the  likeness.  We  shall  probiibly  make  some 
extracts  from  the  letters.  They  contain  ahufist  all  the 
new  information  that  Lord  Nugent  has  been  able  to  pro- 
cure respecting  the  private  pursuits  of  the  great  man 
whose  memory  he  worships  with  nn  enthusiastic,  hut  not 
extravagant,  veneration. 

The  public  life  of  Hampden  is  surrounded   hy   no  ob- 

1 


2  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

scurity.  His  history,  more  particularly  from  the  year 
1040  to  his  doath,  is  the  history  of  England.  These 
Memoirs  must  be  considered  as  Memoirs  of  the  history  of 
England;  and,  as  such,  they  well  deserve  to  be  attentively 
perused.  They  contain  some  curious  facts  which,  to  us  at 
least,  are  new,  much  spirited  narrative,  many  judicious 
remarks,  and  much  eloquent  declamation. 

We  are  not  sure  that  even  the  want  of  information  re- 
specting the  private  character  of  Hampden  is  not  in  itself 
a  circumstance  as  strikingly  characteristic  as  any  which 
the  most  minute  chronicler,  O'Meara,  Mrs.  Thrale,  or  Bos- 
well  himself,  ever  recorded  concerning  their  heroes.  The 
celebrated  Puritan  leader  is  an  almost  solitary  instance 
of  a  great  man  who  neither  sought  nor  shunned  greatness, 
who  found  glory  only  because  glory  lay  in  the  plain  path 
of  duty.  During  more  than  forty  years  he  was  known  to 
his  country  neighbors  as  a  gentleman  of  cultivated  mind, 
of  high  principles,  of  polished  address,  happy  in  his  family, 
and  active  in  the  discharge  of  local  duties;  and  to  political 
men,  as  an  honest,  industrious,  and  sensible  member  of 
Parliament,  not  eager  to  display  his  talents,  stanch  to  his 
party,  and  attentive  to  the  interests  of  his  constituents.  A 
great  and  terrible  crisis  came.  A  direct  attack  was  made 
by  an  arbitrary  government  on  a  sacred  right  of  English- 
men, on  a  right  which  was  the  chief  security  for  all  their 
other  rights.  The  nation  looked  round  for  a  defender. 
Calmly  and  unostentatiously  the  plain  Buckinghamshire 
Esquire  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  his  countrymen,  and 
right  before  the  face  and  across  the  path  of  tyranny.  The 
times  grew  darker  and  more  troubled.  Public  service, 
perilous,  arduous,  delicate  was  required;  and  to  every 
service  the  intellect  and  the  courage  of  this  wonderful 
man  were  found  fully  equal.  He  became  a  debater  of  the 
first  order,  a  most  dexterous  manager  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  a  negotiator,  a  soldier.  He  governed  a  fierce 
and  turl)ulont  assembly,  abounding  in  able  men,  as  easily 
as  he  had  governed  his  family.  He  showed  himself  as 
competent  to  direct  a  campaign  as  to  conduct  the  business 
of  the  petty  sessions.  We  can  scarccJy  express  the  admira- 
tion which  we  feel  for  a  mind  so  great,  and  at  the  same 
time,  so  healthful  and  so  well  proportioned,  so  willingly 
contracting  itself  to  the  humblest  duties,  so  easily  ex- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  3 

panding  itself  to  the  hig'hest,  so  contented  in  repose,  so 
powerful  in  action.  Almost  every  part  of  this  virtuous 
and  blameless  life  which  is  not  hidden  from  us  in  modest 
privacy  is  a  precious  and  splendid  portion  of  our  national 
history.  Had  the  private  conduct  of  Hampden  aiforded 
the  slightest  pretense  for  censure,  he  would  have  been 
assailed  by  the  same  blind  malevolence  which,  in  defiance 
of  the  clearest  proofs,  still  continues  to  call  Sir  John 
Eliot  an  assassin.  Had  there  been  even  any  weak  part  in 
the  character  of  Hampden,  had  his  manners  been  in  any 
respect  open  to  ridicule,  we  may  be  sure  that  no  mercy 
would  have  been  shown  to  him  by  the  writers  of  Charles's 
faction.  Those  writers  have  carefully  preserved  every 
little  circumstance  which  could  tend  to  make  their  op- 
ponents odious  or  contemptible.  They  have  made  them- 
selves merry  with  the  cant  of  injudicious  zealots.  They 
have  told  us  that  Pym  broke  down  in  a  speech,  that  Ireton 
had  his  nose  pulled  by  Hollis,  that  the  Earl  of  Northum- 
berland cudgeled  Henry  Marten,  that  St.  John's  manners 
were  sullen,  that  Vane  had  an  ugly  face,  that  Cromwell 
had  a  rrnl  nose.  But  neither  the  artful  Clarendon  nor  the 
fieurrilous  Denham  could  venture  t<j  throw  the  slightest 
imputation  on  the  morals  or  the  manners  of  Hampden. 
What  was  the  opinion  entertained  respecting  him  by  the 
best  men  of  his  time,  we  learn  from  liaxtcr.  That  emi- 
nent person,  eminent  not  only  for  his  piety  and  his  fervid 
devotional  ehxiuenee,  but  for  his  moderation,  his  knowl- 
edge of  political  affairs,  and  his  skill  in  judging  of 
characters,  declared  in  the  Saint's  Rest  that  one  of  tho 
pleasures  wliieh  he  hope<l  to  enj^.V  •"  heaven  was  tho 
society  of  llamj)den.  Jn  the  editions  printed  after  tho 
Rest<^>ration,  the  name  of  Ilamjxlen  was  omitted.  "But  I 
must  tell  tli('  reader."  says  liaxter,  "that  I  di<l  blot  it 
out,  not  as  changing  my  opinion  of  the  person.  ,  .  .  Mr. 
John  Hampden  was  one  that  friends  and  enemies  acknowl- 
cflged  to  be  most  eminent  for  prudence,  piety,  and  peace- 
able counsels,  having  tlie  most  universal  praise  of  any 
gentleman  that  I  remember  of  that  age.  1  remember  a 
nifxlerate,  pr\ideiit,  aged  gentleman,  far  from  him,  but 
ac(piainted  with  him,  wliom  1  have  lieard  saying,  that  if 
he  might  choose  what  person  he  would  be  then  in  tho 
World,  he  would  be  John  Hampden."     We  cannot  but  regret 


4  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

that  we  have  not  fuller  memorials  of  a  man  who,  after 
passing  through  the  most  severe  temptations  by  which 
human  virtue  can  be  tried,  after  acting  a  most  conspicuous 
part  in  a  revolution  and  a  civil  war,  could  yet  deserve 
such  praise  as  this  from  such  authority.  Yet  the  want 
of  memorials  is  surely  the  best  proof  that  hatred  itself 
could  find  no  blemish  on  his  memory. 

The  story  of  his  early  life  is  soon  told.  He  was  the  head 
of  a  family  which  had  been  settled  in  Buckinghamshire 
before  the  Conquest.  Part  of  the  estate  which  he  inher- 
ited had  been  bestowed  by  Edward  the  Confessor  on 
Baldwyn  de  Hampden,  whose  name  seems  to  indicate  that 
he  was  one  of  the  Norman  favorites  of  the  last  Saxon 
king.  During  the  contest  between  the  houses  of  York 
and  Lancaster,  the  Hampdens  adhered  to  the  party  of  the 
Red  Rose,  and  were,  consequently,  persecuted  by  Edward 
the  Fourth,  and  favored  by  Henry  the  Seventh.  Under 
the  Tudors,  the  family  was  great  and  flourishing.  Griffith 
Hampden,  high  sheriff  of  Buckinghamshire,  entertained 
Elizabeth  with  great  magnificence  at  his  seat.  His  son, 
William  Hampden,  sat  in  the  Parliament  which  that 
queen  summoned  in  the  year  1593.  William  married 
Elizabeth  Cromwell,  aunt  of  the  celebrated  man  who  after- 
ward governed  the  British  islands  with  more  than  regal 
power ;  and  from  this  marriage  sprang  John  Hampden. 

He  was  bom  in  1594.  In  1597  his  father  died,  and 
left  him  heir  to  a  very  lar^Te  estate.  After  passing  some 
years  at  the  grammar-school  of  Tliame,  young  Hampden 
was  sent,  at  fifteen,  to  Magdalene  College,  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford.  At  nineteen,  he  was  admitted  a  student 
of  the  Inner  Temple,  where  he  made  himself  master  of 
the  principles  of  the  English  law.  In  1619  he  married 
Elizabeth  Symeon,  a  lady  to  whom  he  appears  to  have 
been  fondly  attached.  In  the  following  year  he  was  re- 
turned to  parliament  by  a  borough  which  has  in  our  time 
obtained  a  miserable  celebrity,  the  borough  of  Gram- 
pound. 

Of  his  private  life  during  his  early  years  little  is  known 
beyond  what  Clarendon  has  told  us.  "In  his  entrance  into 
the  world,"  says  that  great  historian,  "he  indulged  him- 
self in  all  the  license  in  sports,  and  exercises,  and  com- 
pany, which  were  used  by  men  of  the  most  jolly  conversa- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  5 

tion."  A  remarkable  change,  however,  passed  on  his 
character.  "On  a  siuhJen,"  says  Clarendon,  "from  a  life 
of  great  pleasure  and  license,  he  retired  to  extraordinary 
sobriety  and  strictness,  to  a  more  reserved  and  melancholy 
society."  It  is  probable  that  this  change  took  place  when 
Hampden  was  about  twenty-five  years  old.  At  that  age 
he  was  united  to  a  woman  whom  he  loved  and  esteemed. 
At  that  age  he  entered  into  political  life.  A  mind  so 
happily  constituted  as  his  would  naturally,  under  such 
circumstances,  relinquish  the  pleasures  of  dissipation  for 
domestic  enjoyments  and  public  duties. 

His  enemies  have  allowed  that  he  was  a  man  in  whom 
virtue  showed  itself  in  its  mildest  and  least  austere  form. 
With  the  morals  of  a  Puritan,  he  had  the  manners  of  an 
accomplished  courtier.  Even  after  the  change  in  his 
habits,  "he  preserved,"  says  Clarendon,  "his  own  natural 
cheerfulness  and  vivacity,  and,  above  all,  a  flowing  cour- 
tesy to  all  men."  These  qualities  distinguished  him  from 
most  of  the  members  of  his  sect  and  his  party,  and,  in  the 
great  crisis  in  which  he  afterwards  took  a  principal  part, 
were  of  scarcely  less  service  to  the  country  than  his  keen 
sagacity  and  his  dauntless  courage. 

In  January,  1021,  Hampden  took  his  seat  in  the  House 
of  Connnons.  His  mother  was  exceedingly  desirous  that 
her  son  should  ol)tain  a  peerage.  His  family,  his  i)OS- 
scssions,  and  his  pfrsonal  accomplishments  were  such,  as 
Wdiild,  in  any  age,  liave  justificcj  liiin  in  ijrctciiding  to  that 
honor.  But  in  tbe  reign  of  James  the  First  there  was  one 
short  cut  to  the  Hfiusc  of  Lords.  It  was  but  to  ask,  to 
pay,  and  to  liavc.  Tlic  sab'  of  titles  was  carried  on  as 
openly  as  the  sale  of  boroughs  in  our  times.  Ilainitden 
turned  away  witli  contempt  from  the  degrading  Imnors 
with  wliicb  bis  fiiinily  dcsind  to  see  him  invested,  and 
attached  himself  to  the  pnrty  wbidi  was  in  opposition  to 
the  court. 

It  was  nbnut  tbis  Umv,  as  Lord  Nugent  has  justly  re- 
marked, that  parliamentary  opposition  began  to  take  a 
regular  form.  From  a  very  early  age  the  Kngfisb  had 
enjoyed  a  far  larger  share  of  liberty  than  had  fallen  to 
the  lot  of  any  neighboring  peojile.  IIow  it  chanced  that 
a  country  conquered  and  enslaved  by  invaders,  a  country 
of  which  the  soil  had  been  portioned  out  among  foreign 


■6  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

adventurers,  and  of  which  the  laws  were  written  in  a 
foreign  tongue,  a  country  given  over  to  that  worst 
tyranny,  the  tyranny  of  caste  over  caste,  should  have  be- 
come the  seat  of  civil  liberty,  the  object  of  the  admiration 
and  envy  of  surrounding  states,  is  one  of  the  most  obscure 
problems  in  the  philosophy  of  history.  But  the  fact  is 
certain.  Within  a  century  and  a  half  after  the  Norman 
Oonquest,  the  Great  Charter  was  conceded.  Within  two 
centuries  after  the  Conquest,  the  first  House  of  Commons 
met.  Froissart  tells  us,  what  indeed  his  whole  narrative 
sufficiently  proves,  that,  of  all  the  nations  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  the  English  were  the  least  disposed  to 
endure  oppression.  "C'est  le  plus  perilleux  peuple  qui  soit 
au  monde,  et  plus  outrageux  et  orgueilleux."  The  good 
canon  probably  did  not  perceive  that  all  the  prosperity  and 
internal  peace  which  this  dangerous  people  enjoyed  were 
the  fruits  of  the  spirit  which  he  designates  as  proud  and 
outrageous.  He  has,  however,  borne  ample  testimony  to 
the  effect,  though,  he  was  not  sagacious  enough  to  trace 
it  to  its  cause.  "En  le  royaume  d'Angleterre,"  says  he, 
"toutes  gens,  laboureurs  et  marchands,  ont  appris  de  vivre 
en  paix,  et  a  mener  leurs  marchandises  paisiblement,  et  les 
laboureurs  labourer."  In  the  fifteenth  century,  though 
England  was  convulsed  by  the  struggle  between  the  two 
branches  of  the  royal  family,  the  physical  and  moral  con- 
dition of  the  people  continued  to  improve.  Villenage  al- 
most wholly  disappeared.  The  calamities  of  war  were 
little  felt,  except  by  those  who  bore  arms.  The  oppressions 
of  the  government  were  little  felt,  except  by  the  aristoc- 
racy. The  institutions  of  the  country,  when  compared 
with  the  institutions  of  the  neighboring  kingdoms,  seem 
to  have  been  not  undeserving  of  the  praises  of  Fortescue. 
The  government  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  though  we  call  it 
cruel  and  arbitrary,  was  humane  and  liberal  when  com- 
pared with  that  of  Louis  the  Eleventh,  or  that  of  Charles 
the  Bold.  Comines,  who  had  lived  amidst  the  wealthy 
cities  of  Flanders,  and  who  had  visited  Florence  and 
Venice,  had  never  seen  a  people  so  well  governed  as  the 
English.  "Or  selon  nion  advis,"  says  he,  "entre  toutes  les 
seigneuries  du  monde,  dont  j'ay  connoissance,  ou  la  chose 
publique  est  mieux  traitee,  et  ou  regne  moins  de  violence 
sur  le  peuple,  et  ou   il  n'y  a  nuls  edifices   abbatus   ny 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  7 

demolis  pour  guerre,  c'est  Angleterre;  et  tombe  le  sort 
et  le  malheur  sur  ceux  qui  font  la  guerre." 

About  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  and  the  commencement 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  a  great  portion  of  the  influence 
which  the  aristocracy  had  possessed  passed  to  the  Crown. 
No  English  king  has  ever  enjoyed  such  absolute  power 
as  Henry  the  Eighth.  But  while  the  royal  prerogatives 
were  acquiring  strength  at  the  expense  of  the  nobility, 
two  great  revolutions  took  place,  destined  to  be  the 
parents  of  many  revolutions,  the  invention  of  Printing, 
and  the  reformation  of  the  Church. 

The  immediate  effect  of  the  Reformation  in  England 
was  by  no  means  favorable  to  political  liberty.  The  au- 
thority which  had  been  exercised  by  the  Popes  was 
transferred  almost  entire  to  the  King.  Two  formidable 
powers  which  had  often  served  to  check  each  other  were 
united  in  a  single  despot.  If  the  system  on  which  the 
founders  of  the  Church  f)f  England  acted  could  have  been 
permanent,  the  Reformation  would  have  been,  in  a  politi- 
cal sense,  the  greatest  curse  that  ever  fell  on  our  country. 
But  that  system  carried  within  it  the  seeds  of  its  own 
death.  It  was  possible  to  transfer  the  name  of  Head  of 
the  Church  from  Clement  to  Henry;  but  it  was  impossible 
to  transfer  to  the  new  estalilishiiieiit  the  veneration  which 
the  old  estal)lishment  ba<l  inspired.  .Mankind  had  not 
broken  one  yoke  in  pieces  only  in  order  to  put  on  another. 
The  siipremaey  of  the  Hishoj)  of  Rome  had  been  for  ages 
considered  as  a  fundamental  principle  of  (Jhristianity. 
It  had  for  it  every  thing  that  could  make  a  prejudice  deep- 
and  strong,  venerable  antirniity,  high  authority,  general 
consent.  It  had  been  taught  in  tin;  first  lessons  of  the 
nvirse.  It  was  taken  for  granted  in  all  the  exhortations 
of  the  priest.  To  remove  it  was  to  break  inmiinerable 
associations,  and  to  give  a  great  and  perilons  shock  to 
the  princii)]eH.  Yet  this  prejudice,  strong  as  it  was,  could 
not  stand  in  the  great  day  of  the  deliveraiu-e  of  the  hu- 
man reason.  And  it  was  not  to  bo  expected  that  the 
public  mind,  just  after  freeing  itself  by  an  unexampled 
effort,  from  n  bondage  wbieb  it  had  endured  for  ages, 
would  patiently  submit  to  a  tyranny  wliich  could  plead 
no  ancient  title.  Rome  had  at  least  prescription  on  its 
side.    But  Protestant  intolerance,  despotism  in  an  upstart 


8  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

sect,  infallibility  claimed  by  guides  who  acknowledged 
that  they  had  passed  the  greater  part  of  their  lives  in 
error,  restraints  imposed  on  the  liberty  of  private  judg- 
ment at  the  pleasure  of  rulers  who  could  vindicate  their 
own  proceedings  only  by  asserting  the  liberty  of  private 
judgment,  these  things  could  not  long  be  borne.  Those 
who  had  pulled  down  the  crucifix  could  not  long  continue 
to  persecute  for  the  surplice.  It  required  no  great  sagacity 
to  perceive  the  inconsistency  and  dishonesty  of  men  who, 
dissenting  from  almost  all  Christendom,  would  suffer  none 
to  dissent  from  themselves,  who  demanded  freedom  of 
conscience,  yet  refused  to  grant  it,  who  execrated  perse- 
cutions, yet  persecuted,  who  urged  reason  against  the 
authority  of  one  opponent,  and  authority  against  the 
reasons  of  another.  Bonner  acted  at  least  in  accordance 
with  his  own  principles.  Cranmer  could  vindicate  himself 
from  the  charge  of  being  a  heretic  only  by  arguments 
which  made  him  out  to  be  a  murderer. 

Thus  the  system  on  which  the  English  Princes  acted 
with  respect  to  ecclesiastical  affairs  for  some  time  after 
the  Reformation  was  a  system  too  obviously  unreasonable 
to  be  lasting.  The  public  mind  moved  while  the  govern- 
ment moved,  but  would  not  stop  where  the  government 
stopped.  The  same  impulse  which  had  carried  millions 
away  from  the  Church  of  Rome  continued  to  carry  them 
forward  in  the  same  direction.  As  Catholics  had  become 
Protestants,  Protestants  became  Puritans;  and  the  Tudors 
and  Stuarts  were  as  unable  to  avert  the  latter  change  as 
the  Popes  had  been  to  avert  the  former,  The  dissenting 
party  increased  and  became  strong  under  every  kind  of 
discouragement  and  oppression.  They  were  a  sect.  The 
government  persecuted  them ;  and  they  became  an  oppo- 
sition. The  old  constitution  of  England  furnished  to 
them  the  means  of  resisting  the  sovereign  without  break- 
ing the  law.  They  were  the  majority  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  They  had  the  power  of  giving  or  withholding 
supplies;  and,  by  a  judicious  exercise  of  this  power,  they 
might  hope  to  take  from  the  Church  its  usurped  authority 
over  the  consciences  of  men,  and  from  the  Crown  some 
part  of  the  vast  prerogative  which  it  had  recently  acquired 
at  the  expense  of  the  nobles  and  of  the  Pope. 

The  faint  beginnings  of  this  memorable  contest  may 


JOHN  HAIilPDEN  9 

be  discerned  early  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  The  conduct 
of  her  last  Parliament  made  it  clear  that  one  of  those 
great  revolutions  which  policy  may  guide  but  cannot  stop 
was  in  progress.  It  was  on  the  question  of  monopolies 
that  the  House  of  Commons  gained  its  first  great  victory 
over  the  Throne.  The  conduct  of  the  extraordinary 
woman  who  then  governed  England  is  an  admirable  study 
for  politicians  who  live  in  unquiet  times.  It  shows  how 
thoroughly  she  understood  the  people  whom  she  ruled,  and 
the  crisis  in  which  she  was  called  to  act.  What  she  held 
she  held  firmly.  What  she  gave  she  gave  graciously.  She 
saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  concession  to  the 
nation ;  and  she  made  it,  not  grudgingly,  not  tardily,  not 
as  a  matter  of  i)argain  and  sale,  not,  in  a  word,  as  Charles 
the  First  would  have  made  it,  but  promptly  and  cordially. 
Before  a  bill  could  be  frame^l  or  an  address  presented,  she 
applied  a  remedy  to  the  evil  of  which  the  nation  coni- 
plaiued.  She  expressed  in  the  warmest  terms  her  grati- 
tude to  her  faithful  Commons  for  detecting  abuses  which 
interested  persons  had  concealed  from  her.  If  her  suc- 
cessors had  inherited  her  wisdom  with  her  crown,  Charles 
the  First  might  have  died  of  old  age,  and  James  the 
Sffond  would  never  have  seen  St.  (iermains. 

She  died;  and  the  kingdom  passed  to  one  who  was,  in 
his  own  opinion,  the  greatest  master  of  kingcraft  that 
ever  livfd,  but  who  was,  in  truth,  one  of  tliose  kings 
whom  Cod  seems  to  send  for  the  express  purpose  of  hast- 
ening revolutions.  Cf  all  the  enemies  of  lilx-rty  wliom 
Britain  has  produfcd,  be  was  at  once  the  most  liarinless 
and  the  most  provoking.  His  office  resemblerl  that  of  the 
man  who,  in  a  Spanish  bullfight,  goads  the  torpid  savage 
to  fury,  by  shaking  a  red  rag  in  the  air,  and  l)y  now  aiul 
then  throwing  a  dart,  sliarp  enough  to  sting,  but  too  small 
to  injure.  The  policy  of  wise  tyrants  has  always  been  to 
cover  their  violent  acts  with  popular  forms.  James  was 
alwiiys  obtruding  his  despotic  theories  on  his  subjeets 
without  tho  slightest  necessity.  His  ffinlish  talk  exas- 
perated thfiii  infinitf'ly  more  than  forced  loans  or  benevo- 
lences wouUl  have  done.  Yet,  in  practise,  no  king  ever 
held  his  prerogatives  less  tenaciously.  He  neither  gave 
way  gracefully  to  the  advancing  spirit  of  liberty  nf»r  took 
vigorous  measures  to  stop  it,  but  retreated  before  it  with 


10  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ludicrous  haste,  blustering  and  insulting:  as  he  retreated. 
The  English  people  had  been  governed  during  near  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  by  Princes  who,  whatever  might 
be  their  frailties  or  thoir  vices,  had  all  possessed  great 
force  of  character,  and  who,  whether  beloved  or  hated,  had 
always  been  feared.  Now,  at  length,  for  the  first  time 
since  the  day  when  the  scepter  of  Henry  the  Fourth 
dropped  from  the  hand  of  his  lethargic  grandson,  England 
had  a  king  whom  she  despised. 

The  follies  and  vices  of  the  man  increased  the  contempt 
which  was  produced  by  the  feeble  policy  of  the  sovereign. 
The  indecorous  gallantries  of  the  Court,  the  habits  of 
gross  intoxication  in  which  even  the  ladies  indulged,  were 
alone  sufficient  to  disgust  a  people  whose  manners  were 
beginning  to  be  strongly  tinctured  with  austerity.  But 
these  were  trifles.  Crimes  of  the  most  frightful  kind  had 
been  discovered ;  others  were  suspected.  The  strange 
story  of  the  Cowries  was  not  forgotten.  The  ignominious 
fondness  of  the  King  for  his  miniops,  the  perjuries,  the 
sorceries,  the  poisonings,  which  his  chief  favorites  had 
planned  within  the  walls  of  his  palace,  the  pardon  which, 
in  direct  violation  of  his  duty  and  of  his  word,  he  had 
granted  to  the  mysterious  threats  of  a  murderer,  made 
him  an  object  of  loathing  to  many  of  his  subjects.  What 
opinion  grave  and  moral  persons  residing  at  a  distance 
from  the  Court  entertained  respecting  him,  we  learn  from 
Mrs.  Hutchinson's  Memoirs.  England  was  no  place,  the 
seventeenth  century  no  time,  for  Sporus  and  Locusta.* 
This  was  not  all.  The  most  ridiculous  weaknesses  seemed 
to  meet  in  the  wretched  Solomon  of  Whitehall,  pedantry, 
l)uflFoonery,  garrulity,  low  curiosity,  the  most  contemptible 
personal  cowardice.  Nature  and  education  had  done  their 
best  to  produce  a  finished  specimen  of  all  that  a  king 
ought  not  to  be.  His  awkward  figure,  his  rolling  eye,  his 
rickety  walk,  his  nervous  tremblings,  his  slobbering 
mouth,  his  broad  Scotch  accent,  were  imperfections  which 
might  have  been  found   in   the  best  and  greatest  man. 

*  Sporus  was  a  favourite  of  the  Emperor  Nero  and  was  implicated 
with  him  in  his  more  degenerate  debaucheries. 

Locusta  was  a  professional  poisoner  at  Rome  about  54  A.D.,  who 
according  to  Juvenal  was  especially  adroit  in  ridding  wives  of  their 
husbands.  She  was  employed  for  this  purpose  by  Agrippina,  the 
wife  of  the  Emperor  Claudius. 


JOHN  HxVMPDEN  11 

Their  effect,  however,  was  to  make  James  and  his  office 
objects  of  contempt,  and  to  dissolve  those  associations 
which  had  been  created  by  the  noble  bearing  of  preceding 
monarchs,  and  which  were  in  themselves  no  inconsiderable 
fence  to  royalty. 

The  sovereign  whom  James  most  resembled  was,  we- 
think,  Claudius  Caesar.  Both  had  the  same  feeble  vacil- 
lating temper,  the  same  childishness,  the  same  coarseness, 
the  same  poltroonery.  Both  were  men  of  learning;  both 
wrote  and  spoke,  not  indeed  well,  but  still  in  a  manner 
in  which  it  seems  almost  incredible  that  men  so  foolish 
should  have  written  or  spoken.  The  follies  and  inde- 
cencies of  James  are  well  described  in  the  words  which 
Suetonius  uses  respecting  Claudius:  "Multa  talia,  etiam 
privatis  deformia,  nedum  principi,  ncque  infacundo, 
neque  indocto,  immo  etiam  pertinaciter  liberalibus  studiis 
dedito."  *  The  description  given  by  Suetonius  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  Roman  prince  transacted  business 
exactly  suits  the  Briton.  "In  cognoscendo  ac  decernendo 
mira  varietate  animi  fuit,  modo  circumspectus  et  sagax, 
modo  inconsultus  ac  pneceps,  nonnunciuam  frivolus  amon- 
tique  similis."  +  Claudius  was  rtiled  successively  by  two 
bad  women :  James  successively  by  two  bad  men.  Even 
the  description  of  the  person  of  Claudius,  which  we  find 
in  the  ancient  memoirs,  might,  in  many  points,  serve  for 
that  of  James.  "Ceterum  et  ingredientem  destituebant 
po[)liteH  minus  firm!,  et  remisse  quid  vel  serio  agentem 
multa  dehonestabaiit,  risus  indecens,  ira  tnrpior,  spuiunnte 
rictu,  pni'terca  lingua!  tituliantia."  X 

The  Parliarufiit  wliicli  James  had  called  soon  after  his 
accession  bad  bcfii  rcfraftory.  His  second  Parliament, 
callofl  in  the  sj)riiig  of  lf)14,  had  been  more  refractory 
still.    It  had  been  dissolved  after  a  session  of  two  months; 

•  ".  .  .  hoHldf'B  marfy  other  familiar  HcntcncoH.  below  the  rllKnlty 
of  a  private  perHoii.  mueh  more  of  an  I'liiperor,  who  waH  not  defi- 
cient either  In  elorinence  or  lenrnlnK,  an  having  applied  himself  very 
ClOBely  to  thi'   liberal   HflenreH." 

t  "Rut  In  the  hearing  and  InveRf Igaf Ins  of  raHeH,  hn  showpd  a 
strange  variety  of  humor,  being  one  while  olmimHpert  and  sa- 
garloiiH.  another  while  JneonHltlerate  and  raHh,  and  HometimcB  frlvol- 
OtlB.   like  one  In   a   state  of   liiHlpleney." 

t  "HIb  kneen  wore  feeble,  and  failed  him  In  walking,  and  his  ac- 
tion, whether  In  mirth  or  In  hiiHineRH.  was  very  unKracer\il.  His 
laughter  was  unbecoming.  hl«  passion  yet  more  so;  for  then  ho 
would  froth  at  the  mouth.  Me  has  besides  a  stammering  In  his 
•pecch." 


12  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  during  six  years  the  King  had  governed  without 
having  recourse  to  the  legislature.  During  those  six 
years,  melancholy  and  disgraceful  events,  at  home  and 
abroad,  had  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession ;  the 
divorce  of  Lady  Essex,  the  murder  of  Overbury,  the  eleva- 
tion of  Villiers,  the  pardon  of  Somerset,  the  disgrace  of 
Coke,  the  execution  of  Raleigh,  the  battle  of  Prague,  the 
invasion  of  the  Palatinate  by  Spinola,  the  ignominious 
flight  of  the  son-in-law  of  the  English  king,  the  depression 
of  the  Protestant  interest  all  over  the  Continent.  All  the 
extraordinary  modes  by  which  James  could  venture  to 
raise  money  had  been  tried.  His  necessities  were  greater 
than  ever;  and  he  was  compelled  to  summon  the  Parlia- 
ment in  which  Hampden  first  appeared  as  a  public  man. 

This  Parliament  lasted  about  twelve  months.  During 
that  time  it  visited  with  deserved  punishment  several  of 
those  who  during  the  preceding  six  years  had  enriched 
themselves  by  peculation  and  monopoly.  Michell,  one  of 
the  grasping  patentees  who  had  purchased  of  the  favorite 
the  power  of  robbing  the  nation,  was  fined  and  imprisoned 
for  life.  Mompesson,  the  original,  it  is  said,  of  Mas- 
singer's  Overreach,*  was  outlawed  and  deprived  of  his  ill- 
gotten  wealth.  Even  Sir  Edward  Villiers,  the  brother  of 
Buckingham,  found  it  convenient  to  leave  England,  A 
greater  name  is  to  be  added  to  the  ignominious  list.  By 
this  Parliament  was  brought  to  justice  that  illustrious 
philosopher  f  whose  memory  genius  has  half  redeemed 
from  the  infamy  due  to  servility,  to  ingratitude,  and  to 
corruption. 

After  redressing  internal  grievances,  the  Commons 
proceeded  to  take  into  consideration  the  state  of  Europe. 
The  King  flew  into  a  rage  with  them  for  meddling  with 
such  matters,  and,  with  characteristic  judgment,  drew 
them  into  a  controversy  about  the  origin  of  their  house 
and  of  its  privileges.  When  he  found  that  he  could  not 
convince  them,  he  dissolved  them  in  a  passion,  and  sent 

•  Sir  Giles  Overreach  is  the  leading  character,  an  unscrupulous 
and  greedy  man,  in  the  play  "A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,"  by 
Philip  Massinger,  who  was  an  associate  of  Dekker  and  Fletcher. 

■t  The  reference  is  to  Francis  Bacon,  philosopher  and  statesman, 
author  of  the  Essays,  the  "Novum  Organum,"  etc.,  who  was  serving  as 
lord  chancellor  in  1021,  when  he  was  tried  for  bribery  and  removed 
from  office.  He  founded  the  inductive  system  of  scientific  investi- 
gation. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  13 

some  of  the  leaders  of  the  Opposition  to  ruminate  on  his 
logic  in  prison. 

During  the  time  which  elapsed  between  this  dissolution 
and  the  meeting  of  the  next  Parliament,  took  place  the 
celebrated  negotiation  respecting  the  Infanta.  The  would- 
be  despot  was  unmercifully  brow-beaten.  The  would-be 
Solomon  was  ridiculously  overreached.  Steenie,*  in  spite 
of  the  begging  and  sobbing  of  his  dear  dad  and  gossip, 
carried  off  baby  Charles  in  triumph  to  Madrid.  The  sweet 
lads,  as  James  called  them,  came  back  safe,  but  without 
their  errand.  The  great  master  of  kingcraft,  in  looking 
for  a  Spanish  match,  had  found  a  Spanish  war.  In 
February',  1024,  a  Parliament  met,  during  the  whole  sit- 
ting of  which  James  was  a  mere  puppet  in  the  hands  of 
his  baby,  and  of  his  poor  slave  and  dog.  The  Commons 
were  disposed  to  support  the  King  in  the  vigorous  policy 
whifh  his  favorite  urged  him  to  adopt.  But  they  were 
not  disposed  to  place  any  confidence  in  their  feeble  sov- 
ereign and  his  dissolute  courtiers,  or  to  relax  in  their 
efforts  to  remove  public  grievances.  They  therefore  lodged 
the  money  which  they  voted  for  the  war  in  the  hands  of 
Parliamentar>'  CoiMiiiissioncrs.  They  impeached  the 
treasurer.  Lord  Middlesex,  for  corrui)tion,  and  they  passed 
a  bill  by  which  patents  of  monopoly  were  declared  illegal. 

iriimpden  did  not,  during  the  reign  of  James,  take  any 
prominent  part  in  puljlic  alTairs.  Jt  is  certain,  however, 
that  he  paid  great  attention  to  the  details  of  Parliamen- 
tary business,  and  to  tlu'  local  interests  of  his  own 
'•ountry.  It  was  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  his  (exer- 
tions that  Wendover  and  some  other  boroughs  on  which 
the  popular  i)arfy  fDiild  depend  recov«'red  the  elective 
franchise,  in  spite  of  tlie  fjpposition  of  the  Court. 

The  health  of  the  King  had  for  some  time  been  declin- 
ing. On  the  twenty-seventh  of  March,  1<">2r),  be  cx[)ired. 
I'nder  his  weak  rule,  the  sj)irit  of  liberty  liad  grown 
strong,  and  had  become  equal  to  a  great  contest.  The 
contest  was  brought  on  by  tlie  policy  of  bis  successor. 
Charles  bore  no  resemblaiic*'  to  his  fatlier.  He  was  not  a 
driveler,  or  a  pedant,  or  a  buffoon,  or  a  coward.  It  would 
be  absurd  to  deny  that  he  was  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman, 

•  Sfenin  was  tho  namo  given  by  KliiK  James  to  tho  Duke  of 
Duckingham.   on   account   of   a   auppoHed    reHemblancc  to  St.   Stephen. 


14  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

a  man  of  exquisite  taste  in  the  fine  arts,  a  man  of  strict 
morals  in  private  life.  His  talents  for  business  were  re- 
spectable; his  demeanor  was  kingly.  But  he  was  false, 
imperious,  obstinate,  narrow-minded,  ignorant  of  the 
temper  of  his  people,  unobservant  of  the  signs  of  his 
times.  The  whole  principle  of  his  government  was  re- 
sistance to  public  opinion;  nor  did  he  make  any  real 
concession  to  that  opinion  till  it  mattered  not  whether  he 
resisted  or  conceded,  till  the  nation  which  had  long  ceased 
to  love  him  or  to  trust  him,  had  at  last  ceased  to  fear 
him. 

His  first  Parliament  met  in  June,  1G25.  Hampden  sat 
in  is  as  burgess  for  Wendover.  The  King  wished  for 
money.  The  Commons  wished  for  the  redress  of  griev- 
ances. The  war,  however,  could  not  be  carried  on  without 
funds.  The  plan  of  the  Opposition  was,  it  should  seem, 
to  dole  out  supplies  by  small  sums,  in  order  to  prevent  a 
speedy  dissolution.  They  gave  the  King  two  subsidies 
only,  and  proceeded  to  complain  that  his  ships  had  been 
employed  against  the  Huguenots  in  France,  and  to  peti- 
tion in  behalf  of  the  Puritans  who  were  persecuted  in 
England.  The  King  dissolved  them,  and  raised  money  by 
Letters  under  his  Privy  Seal.  The  supply  fell  far  short 
of  what  he  needed ;  and,  in  the  spring  of  1C>2G,  he  called 
together  another  Parliament.  In  this  Parliament,  Hamp- 
den again  sat  for  Wendover. 

The  Commons  resolved  to  grant  a  very  liberal  supply, 
but  to  defer  the  final  passing  of  the  act  for  that  purpose 
till  the  grievances  of  the  nation  should  be  redressed.  The 
struggle  which  followed  far  exceeded  in  violence  any  that 
had  yet  taken  place.  The  Commons  impeached  Bucking- 
ham. The  King  threw  the  managers  of  the  impeachment 
into  prison.  The  Commons  denied  the  right  of  the  King 
to  levy  tonnage  and  poundage  without  their  consent.  The 
King  dissolved  them.  They  put  forth  a  remonstrance. 
The  King  circulated  a  declaration  vindicating  his  meas- 
ures, and  committed  some  of  the  most  distinguished  mem- 
bers of  the  Opposition  to  close  custody.  Money  was 
raised  by  a  forced  loan,  which  was  apportioned  among  the 
people  according  to  the  rate  at  which  they  had  been  re- 
spectively assessed  to  the  last  subsidy.  On  this  occasion 
it  was  that  Hampden  made  his  first  stand  for  the  funda- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  15 

mental  principle  of  the  English  constitution.  He  posi- 
tively refused  to  lend  a  farthing.  He  was  required  to 
give  his  reasons.  He  answered  "that  he  could  be  con- 
tent to  lend  as  well  as  others,  but  feared  to  draw  upon 
himself  that  curse  in  Magna  Charta  which  should  be  read 
twice  a  year  against  those  who  infringe  it."  For  this 
spiritcid  answer,  the  Privy  Council  committed  him  close 
prisoner  to  the  Gate  House.  After  some  time,  he  was 
again  brought  up ;  but  he  persisted  in  his  refusal,  and 
was  sent  to  a  place  of  confinement  in  Hampshire. 

The  government  went  on,  oppressing  at  home,  and  blun- 
dering in  all  its  measures  abroad.  A  war  was  foolishly 
undertaken  against  France,  and  more  foolishly  conducted. 
Buckingham  led  an  expedition  against  Rhe,  and  failed 
ignominously.  In  the  mean  time  soldiers  were  billeted 
on  the  people.  Crimes  of  which  ordinary  justice  should 
have  taken  cognizance  were  punished  by  martial  law. 
Near  eighty  gentlemen  were  imprisoned  for  refusing  to 
contribute  to  the  forced  loan.  The  lower  people  who 
showed  any  signs  of  insubordination  were  pressed  into 
the  fleet,  or  compelled  to  ser\'e  in  the  army.  Money,  how- 
ever, came  in  slowly;  and  the  King  was  compelled  to 
summon  another  J^arlianicnt.  In  the  hope  of  conciliating 
his  subjects,  he  set  at  liberty  the  persons  who  had  been 
imprisoned  for  refusing  to  comply  with  his  unlawful  de- 
mniuls.  I[ainj»(lcn  regained  his  freedom,  and  was  im- 
mediately reelected  burgess  for  Wendover. 

Early  in  ^(]2x  the  ParlianicTit  met.  During  its  first  ses- 
sion, the  Commons  prevailed  on  the  King,  after  maiiy 
delays  and  much  equivocntion,  to  give,  in  retnni  for  five 
snbsiflies,  his  full  aTid  solemn  assent  to  that  celebrated 
instrument,  tlie  second  great  charter  of  the  lilxTties  of 
England,  known  liv  tbe  name  of  the  Petition  of  Right. 
By  agreeing  to  tins  net.  the  King  bonnd  himself  to  raise 
no  taxes  witliont  the  cf>nsent  of  l*!irliainetit,  to  imprison 
no  man  except  by  h-gal  process,  to  liilb't  no  more  soldiers 
on  the  peojile.  iind  to  leave  the  cognizance  of  offenses  to 
the  ordinary   tribnnnls. 

In  the  summer,  this  memoral'le  Piirliament  was  pro- 
rogued. It  met  ag:iin  iti  Jiiiuinry,  1020.  Buckingham 
was  no  more.  That  weak,  violi  nt  and  dissolute  iidven- 
turer.  who  with  no  talents  or  acquirements  but  those  of  a 


16  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

mere  courtier,  had,  in  a  great  crisis  of  foreign  and  domes- 
tic politics,  ventured  on  the  part  of  prime  minister,  had 
fallen,  during  the  recess  of  Parliament,  by  the  hand  of 
an  assassin.  Both  before  and  after  his  death  the  war 
had  been  feebly  and  unsuccessfully  conducted.  The  King 
had  continued,  in  direct  violation  of  the  Petition  of  Right, 
to  raise  tonnage  and  poundage  without  the  consent  of 
Parliament.  The  troops  had  again  been  billeted  on  the 
people ;  and  it  was  clear  to  the  Commons  that  the  five  sub- 
sidies which  they  had  given  as  the  price  of  the  national 
liberties  had  been  given  in  vain. 

They  met  accordingly  in  no  complying  humor..  They 
took  into  their  most  serious  consideration  the  measures 
of  the  government  concerning  tonnage  and  poundage. 
They  summoned  the  officers  of  the  customhouse  to  their 
bar.  They  interrogated  the  barons  of  the  exchequer. 
They  committed  one  of  the  sheriffs  of  London.  Sir  John 
Eliot,  a  distinguished  member  of  the  Opposition,  and  an 
intimate  friend  of  Hampden,  proposed  a  resolution  con- 
demning the  unconstitutional  imposition.  The  Speaker 
said  that  the  King  had  commanded  him  to  put  no  such 
question  to  the  vote.  This  decision  produced  the  most 
violent  burst  of  feeling  ever  seen  within  the  walls  of  Par- 
liament. Hayman  remonstrated  vehemently  against  the 
disgraceful  language  which  had  been  heard  from  the  chair. 
Eliot  dashed  the  paper  which  contained  his  resolution  on 
the  floor  of  the  House.  Valentine  and  llollis  held  the 
Speaker  down  in  his  seat  by  main  force,  and  read  the 
motion  amidst  the  loudest  shouts.  The  door  was  locked. 
The  key  was  laid  on  tlic  table.  Black  Rod  *  knocked  for 
admittance  in  vain.  After  passing  several  strong  resolu- 
tions, the  House  adjourned.  On  the  day  appointed  for 
its  meeting  it  was  dissolved  by  the  King,  and  several  of 
its  most  eminent  members,  among  whom  were  HoUia  and 
Sir  John  Eliot,  were  committed  to  prison. 

Though  Hampden  had  as  yet  taken  little  part  in  the 
debates  of  the  House,  he  had  been  a  member  of  many  very 
important  committees,  and  had  read  and  written  much 
concerning  the  law  of  Parliament.     A  manuscript  volume 

*  Black  Rod  was  the  name  given  in  the  Houses  of  Lords  and 
Commons  to  an  usher  with  special  duties,  who  always  carried  with 
him  a  black  rod  surmounted  with  a  gold  lion. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  17 

of  Parliamentary  cases,  which  is  still  in  existence,  con- 
tains many  extracts  from  his  notes. 

He  now  retired  to  the  duties  and  pleasures  of  a  rural 
life.  During  the  eleven  years  which  followed  the  disso- 
lution of  the  Parliament  of  1628,  he  resided  at  his  seat  in 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  parts  of  the  county  of  Bucking- 
ham. The  house,  which  has  since  his  time  been  greatly 
altered,  and  which  is  now,  we  believe,  almost  entirely 
neglected,  was  an  old  English  mansion  built  in  the  days 
of  the  Plantagenets  and  the  Tudors.  It  stood  on  the  brow 
of  a  hill  which  overlooks  a  narrow  valley.  The  extensive 
woods  which  surround  it  were  pierced  by  long  avenues. 
One  of  these  avenues  the  grandfather  of  the  great  states- 
man had  cut  for  the  approach  of  Elizabeth;  and  the  open- 
ing, which  is  still  visible  for  many  miles,  retains  the  name 
of  the  Queen's  Gap.  In  this  delightful  retreat  Hamp- 
den passed  several  .vears,  performing  with  great  activ- 
ity all  tlic  duties  of  a  landed  gentleman  and  a  magis- 
trate, and  amusing  himself  with  books  and  with  field 
ports. 

He  was  not  in  his  retirement  unmindful  of  his  perse- 
cuted friends.  In  particular,  he  kept  up  a  close  corre- 
spondence with  Sir  John  I^liot,  who  was  confined  in  the 
Tower.  Lord  Nugent  has  published  several  of  the  Let- 
ters. We  may  perhaps  be  fiineiful ;  but  it  seems  to  us 
that  every  one  of  them  is  an  admirable  illustration  of  some 
part  of  the  character  of  Hampden  which  Clarendon  has 
drawn. 

Part  of  the  correspondence  relates  to  the  two  sons  of 
Sir  John  Eliot.  Tbese  young  men  were  wild  and  un- 
steady; and  tbi'ir  father,  who  was  now  separated  from 
tliem,  was  naturally  anxious  about  their  conduct.  He  at 
length  resolved  to  send  one  of  them  to  I*' ranee,  and  the 
other  t<^»  serve  a  camijaign  in  tlie  Low  (\iuiitries.  The 
letter  which  we  sulijoin  shows  that  Hampden,  tliough  rig- 
orotis  towards  himself,  was  not  uncbiiritalib',  towards 
otliers,  anfl  tliat  liis  j»uritanism  was  perfectly  comjtatible 
witli  the  sentiments  and  the  tastes  f)f  an  accomplished 
gentleninn.  It  also  illustrates  ndmirM})ly  what  has  l)ecn 
said  of  him  by  Clarendon  :  "He  was  of  that  rare  alTability 
and  temper  in  flebate,  and  of  that  seeming  humility  and 
submission   of  judgment,   as   if  be  brought  no  opinion   of 


18  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

his  own  with  him,  but  a  desire  of  information  and  instruc- 
tion. Yet  he  had  so  subtle  a  way  of  interrogating,  and, 
under  cover  of  doubts,  insin\iating  his  objections,  that  he 
infused  his  own  opinion  into  those  from  whom  he  pre- 
tended to  learn  and  receive  them." 

The  letter  runs  thus :  "I  am  so  perfectly  acquainted 
with  your  clear  insight  into  the  dispositions  of  men,  and 
ability  to  fit  them  with  courses  suitable,  that,  had  you  be- 
stowed sons  of  mine  as  you  have  done  your  own,  my  judg- 
ment durst  hardly  have  called  it  into  question,  especially 
when,  in  laying  the  design,  you  have  prevented  the  objec- 
tions to  be  made  against  it.  For  if  Mr.  Richard  Eliot 
will,  in  the  intermissions  of  action,  add  study  to  practice, 
and  adorn  that  lively  spirit  with  flowers  of  contemplation, 
he  will  raise  our  expectations  of  another  Sir  Edward 
Vere,  that  had  this  character — all  summer  in  the  field,  all 
winter  in  his  study — in  whose  fall  fame  makes  this  king- 
dom a  great  loser ;  and,  having  taken  this  resolution  from 
counsel  with  the  highest  wisdom,  as  I  doubt  not  you  have, 
I  hoi)e  and  pray  that  the  same  power  will  crown  it  with 
a  blessing  answerable  to  our  wish.  The  way  you  take 
with  my  other  friends  shows  you  to  be  none  of  the  Bishop 
of  Exeter's  converts ;  *  of  whose  mind  neither  am  I  super- 
stitiously.  But  had  my  opinion  been  asked,  I  should,  as 
vulgar  conceits  use  to  me  do,  have  showed  my  power 
rather  to  raise  objections  than  to  answer  them.  A  teui- 
per  between  France  and  Oxford,  might  have  taken  away 
his  scruples,  with  more  advantage  to  his  years.  .  .  .  For 
although  he  be  one  of  those  that,  if  his  age  were  looked 
for  in  no  other  book  but  that  of  the  mind,  would  be  found 
no  ward  if  you  should  die  to-morrow,  yet  it  is  a  great 
hazard,  methinks,  to  see  so  sweet  a  disposition  guarded 
with  no  more,  amongst  a  people  whereof  many  make  it 
their  religion  to  be  superstitious  in  impiety,  and  their  l)e- 
havior  to  be  affected  in  ill  manners.  But  God,  who  only 
knoweth  the  periods  of  life  and  opportunities  to  come, 
hath  resigned  him,  I  hope,  for  his  own  service  betime,  and 
stirred  up  your  providence  to  husband  him  so  early  for 
great    affairs.     Then    shall   he   be    sure   to   find   Him    in 

•  Hall,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  had  written  strongly,  both  in  verse  and 
in  prose,  against  the  fashion  of  sending  young  men  of  quality  to 
travel. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  19 

France  that  Abraham  did  in  Sechem  and  Joseph  in  Egypt, 
under  whose  wing  alone  is  perfect  safety." 

Sir  John  Eliot  employed  himself,  during  his  imprison- 
ment, in  writing  a  treatise  on  government,  which  he 
transmitted  to  his  friend.  Hampden's  criticisms  are 
strikingly  characteristic.  They  are  written  with  all  that 
"flowing  courtesy"  which  is  ascribed  to  him  by  Clarendon. 
The  objections  are  insinuated  with  so  much  delicacy  that 
they  could  scarcely  gall  the  most  irritable  author.  We 
see  too  how  highly  Hampden  valued  in  the  writings  of 
others  that  conciseness  which  was  one  of  the  most  striking 
peculiarities  of  his  own  eloquence.  Sir  John  Eliot's  style 
was,  it  seems,  too  diffuse,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  ad- 
mire the  skill  with  which  this  is  suggested.  "The  piece," 
says  Hampden,  "is  as  complete  an  image  of  the  pattern 
as  can  be  drawn  by  lines,  a  lively  character  of  a  large 
mind,  the  subject,  method,  and  expression,  excellent  and 
homogeneal,  and,  to  say  truth,  sweetheart,  somewhat  ex- 
ceeding my  commendations.  My  words  cannot  render 
them  to  the  life.  Yet,  to  show  my  ingenuity  rather  than 
wit.  wf)uld  not  a  less  model  have  given  a  full  representa- 
tion of  that  subject,  not  by  diminution  but  by  contraction 
of  parts?  I  desire  to  learn.  I  dare  not  say.  The  varia- 
tions upon  each  particular  seem  many;  all,  I  confess,  ex- 
cellent. The  fountain  was  full,  the  rhannel  narrow;  that 
may  be  the  cause;  or  that  the  author  resembled  Virgil, 
who  made  more  verses  by  many  than  he  intended  to  write. 
To  extract  a  just  number,  had  T  seen  all  bis,  I  could  easily 
have  bid  him  make  fewer;  b>it  if  be  had  bade  me  tell  him 
whifh  he  shoulrl  have  spared,  T  had  l)een  posed." 

This  is  evidfiitly  the  writing  nf)t  only  of  a  man  of  good 
sense  and  natural  good  taste,  but  of  a  man  of  literary 
habits.  Of  the  stiulifs  of  TTampdcii  little  is  known.  But. 
ns  it  was  at  nno  time  in  contemplation  U>  give  him  the 
charge  of  the  oducation  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  it  r-annnt 
bf  doubtrd  that  his  acquiremonts  were  conHitlcrablo. 
Havila*  it  is  said,  was  one  of  his  favorite  writers.  The 
iiKidr-nition  of  Davila's  opinions  nnd  tbo  perspicuity  and 
manliness  of  his  style  could  not  but  rci-funmend  him  to  so 
judicious  a  reader.     It  is  not  improbable  that  the  parallel 

*  pavlla  was  an  Italian  nolrllor  and  hlHtorlan.  af  one  time  a  page 
of   CatluTlno   (le   Mpfllrl,   anri    a   contemporary   of    Hampden. 


20  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

between  France  and  Enjiland,  the  Hufiuenots  and  the 
Puritans,  had  struck  the  mind  of  Hampden,  and  that  he 
already  found  within  himself  powers  not  unequal  to  the 
lofty  part  of  Coligny. 

While  he  was  engaged  in  these  pursuits,  a  hea\'y  domes- 
tic calamity  fell  on  him.  His  wife,  who  had  borne  him 
nine  children,  died  in  the  summer  of  1634.  She  lies  in 
the  parish  church  of  Hampden,  close  to  the  manor-house. 
The  tender  and  energetic  language  of  her  epitaph  still 
attests  the  bitterness  of  her  husband's  sorrow,  and  the 
consolation  which  he  found  in  a  hope  full  of  immortality. 

In  the  meantime,  the  aspect  of  public  affairs  grew 
darker  and  darker.  The  health  of  Eliot  had  sunk  under 
an  unlawful  imprisonment  of  several  years.  The  brave 
sufferer  refused  to  purchase  liberty,  though  liberty  would 
to  him  have  been  life,  by  recognizing  the  authority  which 
had  confined  him.  In  consequence  of  the  representations 
of  his  physicians,  the  severity  of  restraint  was  somewhat 
relaxed.  But  it  was  in  vain.  He  languished  and  expired 
a  martyr  to  that  good  cause  for  which  his  friend  Hampden 
was  destined  to  meet  a  more  brilliant,  but  not  a  more 
honorable  death. 

All  the  promises  of  the  King  were  violated  without 
scruple  or  shame.  The  Petition  of  Right,  to  which  he 
had,  in  consideration  of  moneys  duly  numbered,  given  a 
solemn  assent,  was  set  at  nought.  Taxes  were  raised  by 
the  royal  authority.  Patents  of  monopoly  were  granted. 
The  old  usages  of  feudal  times  were  made  pretexts  for 
harassing  the  people  with  exactions  unknown  during  many 
years.  The  Puritans  were  persecuted  with  cruelty  worthy 
of  the  Holy  Office.  They  were  forced  to  fly  from  the 
country.  They  were  imprisoned.  They  were  whipped. 
Their  ears  were  cut  off.  Their  noses  were  slit.  Their 
cheeks  were  branded  with  red-hot  iron.  But  the  cruelty 
of  the  oppressor  could  not  tire  ovit  the  fortitude  of  the 
victims.  The  mutilated  defenders  of  liberty  again  defied 
the  vengeance  of  the  Star  Chamber,  came  back  with  undi- 
minished resolution  to  the  place  of  their  glorious  infamy, 
and  manfully  presented  the  stumps  of  their  ears  to  be 
grubbed  out  by  the  hangman's  knife.  The  hardy  sect 
grew  up  and  flourished  in  spite  of  everything  that  seemed 
likely  to  stunt  it,  stuck  its  roots  deep  into  a  barren  soil. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  21 

and  spread  its  branches  wide  to  an  inclement  sky.  The 
multitude  thronged  round  Prynne  in  the  pillory  with 
more  respect  than  they  paid  to  Mainwaring  in  the  pulpit, 
pnd  treasured  up  the  rags  which  the  blood  of  Burton  had 
soaked,  with  a  veneration  such  as  miters  and  surplices 
had  ceased  to  inspire. 

For  the  misgovernment  of  this  disastrous  period  Charles 
himself  is  principally  responsible.  After  the  death  of 
Buckingham,  he  seems  to  have  been  his  own  prime  min- 
ister. He  had,  however,  two  counselors  who  seconded 
him,  or  went  beyond  him.  in  intolerance  and  lawless  vio- 
lence; the  one  a  superstitious  driveler,  as  honest  as  a 
vile  temper  would  suffer  him  to  be,  the  other  a  man  of 
great  valor  and  capacity,  but  licentious,  faithless,  cor- 
rupt, and  cruel. 

Never  were  faces  more  strikingly  characteristic  of  the 
individuals  to  whom  they  belongeil,  than  those  of  Laud 
and  Strafford,  as  they  still  remain  portrayed  by  the  most 
skilful  hand  of  that  age.  The  mean  forehead,  the  pinched 
features,  the  peering  eyes,  of  the  prelate,  suit  admirably 
with  his  disposition.  They  mark  him  out  as  a  lower  kind 
of  Saint  Dominic,  differing  from  the  fierce  and  gloomy 
enthusiast  who  founded  tlie  ln<iuisition,  as  we  might  im- 
agine the  familiar  imp  of  a  spiteful  witch  to  differ  from 
an  archangel  of  darknf«Js.  When  we  read  TTis  drace's 
judgments,  when  we  read  the  report  whicli  he  drew  up, 
setting  forth  that  he  had  sent  some  separatists  to  prison, 
and  iinftloring  the  rftyal  aid  agaijist  others,  we  fed  a 
movement  of  indignation.  We  turn  to  his  Diary,  and  we 
are  at  once  as  cool  as  contempt  can  make  us.  There  we 
learn  how  his  picture  fell  down,  and  how  ff-arful  he 
was  lest  the  fall  should  lt«'  an  omen;  how  he  dreamed 
that  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  came  to  bed  to  him,  that 
King  James  wnlked  T>ast  him.  that  he  saw  Thomas  Flexney 
in  green  garments,  and  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  with  his 
shoulders  wrapped  in  linen.  Tn  the  early  part  of  1627, 
the  sleep  of  this  grent  ornament  of  the  church  seems  to 
have  been  much  distnrbiHl.  On  the  fiftli  of  Januar>'.  he 
saw  a  merry  old  man  with  a  wrinkled  coimtenance,  named 
Grove,  lying  on  the  ground.  C)n  the  fourteenth  of  the 
same  memorable  mfrnth.  he  saw  the  P>ishop  of  Lincoln 
jump  on  a  horse  and  ride  away.     A  day  or  two  after  this 


22  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

he  dreamed  that  he  gave  the  King  drink  in  a  silver  cup, 
and  that  the  King  refused  it,  and  called  for  glass.  Then 
he  dreamed  that  he  had  turned  Papist;  of  all  his  dreams 
the  only  one,  we  suspect,  which  came  through  the  gate 
of  horn.  But  of  these  visions  our  favorite  is  that  which, 
as  he  has  recorded,  he  enjoyed  on  the  night  of  Friday,  the 
ninth  of  February,  1627.  "I  dreamed,"  says  he,  "that  I 
had  the  scurvy ;  and  that  forthwith  all  my  teeth  became 
loose.  There  was  one  in  especial  in  my  lower  jaw,  which 
I  could  scarcely  keep  in  with  my  finger  till  I  had  called 
for  help."  Here  was  a  man  to  have  the  superintendence 
of  the  opinions  of  a  great  nation ! 

But  Wentworth. — who  ever  names  him  without  thinking 
of  those  harsh  dark  features,  ennobled  by  their  expression 
into  more  than  the  majesty  of  an  antique  Jupiter;  of 
that  brow,  that  eye,  that  cheek,  that  lip,  wherein,  as  in 
a  chronicle,  are  written  the  events  of  many  stormy  and 
disastrous  years,  high  enterprise  accomplished,  frightful 
dangers  braved,  power  unsparingly  exercised,  suffering 
unshrinkingly  borne;  of  that  fixed  look,  so  full  of  severity, 
of  mournful  anxiety,  of  deep  thought,  of  dauntless  reso- 
lution, which  seems  at  once  to  forbode  and  to  defy  a  ter- 
rible fate,  as  it  lowers  on  us  from  the  living  canvass  of 
Vandyke?  Even  at  this  day  the  haughty  earl  overawes 
posterity  as  he  overawed  his  contemporaries,  and  excites 
the  same  interest  when  arraigned  before  the  tribunal  of 
history  which  he  excited  at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
In  spite  of  ourselves,  we  sometimes  feel  towards  his  mem- 
ory a  certain  relenting  similar  to  that  relenting  which 
his  defense,  as  Sir  John  Denham  tells  us,  produced  in 
Westminster  Hall. 

This  great,  brave,  bad  man  entered  the  House  of  Com- 
mons at  the  same  time  with  Hampden,  and  took  the  same 
side  with  Hampden.  Both  were  among  the  richest  and 
most  powerful  commoners  in  the  kingdom.  Both  were 
equally  distinguished  by  force  of  character,  and  by  per- 
sonal courage.  Hampden  had  more  judgment  and  sagac- 
ity than  Wentworth.  But  no  orator  of  that  time  equaled 
Wentworth  in  force  and  brilliancy  of  expression.  In  1626 
both  these  eminent  men  were  committed  to  prison  by  the 
King.  Wentworth,  who  was  among  the  leaders  of  the  Op- 
position, on  account  of  his  parliamentary  conduct,  Hamp- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  23 

den,  who  had  not  as  yet  taken  a  prominent  part  in  debate, 
for  refusing:  to  pay  taxes  illegally  imposed. 

Here  their  path  separated.  After  the  death  of  Buck- 
ingham, the  King  attempted  to  seduce  some  of  the  chiefs 
of  the  Opposition  from  their  party;  and  Wentworth  was 
among  those  who  yielded  to  the  seduction.  He  abandoned 
his  associates,  and  hated  thorn  ever  after  with  the  deadly 
hatred  of  a  renegade.  High  titles  and  great  employments 
were  heaped  upon  him.  He  became  Earl  of  Strafford, 
Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland,  President  of  the  Council  of 
the  North;  and  he  emi)loyod  all  his  power  for  the  purpose 
of  crushing  those  liberties  of  which  he  had  been  the  most 
distinguished  champion.  His  counsels  respecting  public 
affairs  were  fierce  and  arbitrary.  His  correspondence  with 
Laud  abundantly  proves  that  government  without  parlia- 
ments, government  by  the  sword,  was  his  favorite  scheme. 
He  was  angry  even  that  the  course  of  justice  between 
man  and  man  should  l)e  unrestrained  by  the  royal  pre- 
rogative. He  grudged  to  the  Courts  of  King's  Bench 
and  Common  Pleas  even  that  measure  of  liberty  which 
the  most  al)solute  of  the  Bourbons  allowed  to  the  Parlia- 
ments of  France.  In  Ireland,  where  he  stood  in  the 
phu-e  of  the  King,  his  praotifc  was  in  strict  accordance 
with  his  theory.  He  set  uj)  the  authority  of  the  executive 
government  over  that  of  the  courts  of  law.  He  permitted 
no  person  to  leave  the  island  without  his  license.  He 
estal)lished  vast  monopolies  for  his  own  i)rivate  benefit. 
He  imposed  taxes  arbitrarily.  He  levied  them  by  military 
foree.  Some  of  his  aets  are  described  even  by  the  partial 
Clarendon  as  powerful  aets,  aets  which  marked  a  na- 
ture excessively  imperious,  acts  which  caused  flislike  and 
terror  in  so})er  and  dispassionate  persons,  high  acts  of 
oppression.  Fpon  a  most  frivolous  charge,  be  oiitained 
n  capital  sentence  from  a  court-martial  against  a  man  of 
high  rank  who  had  given  him  offense.  lie  deliauclied 
the  daugbter-i)i-bi\v  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  Irelaml, 
and  then  commanded  that  nobleman  to  settle  his  estate 
nccordintr  to  the  wishes  of  the  lady.  The  Chancellor  re- 
fused. The  Lord  Lieutenant  turned  liim  out  of  office, 
and  threw  him  into  prison.  When  the  violent  acts  of 
the  Long  Parliament  are  bliiined.  let  it  not  be  forgotten 
from  what  a  tyranny  they  rescued  the  nation. 


24  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Amoiif?  the  humbler  tools  of  Charles  were  Chief-Justice 
Finch  and  Noy  the  Attornoy-Cieneral.  Noy  had,  like 
Wentworth,  supported  the  cause  of  liberty  in  Parliament, 
and  had,  like  Wentworth,  abandoned  that  cause  for  the 
sake  of  office.  He  devised,  in  conjunction  with  Finch,  a 
scheme  of  exaction  which  made  the  alienation  of  the  peo- 
ple from  the  throne  complete.  A  writ  was  issued  by  the 
King-,  conunanding  the  city  of  London  to  equip  and  man 
ships  of  war  for  his  service.  Similar  writs  were  sent 
to  the  towns  along  the  coast.  These  measures,  though 
they  were  direct  violations  of  the  Petition  of  Right,  had 
at  least  some  show  of  precedent  in  their  favor.  But,  after 
a  time,  the  government  took  a  step  for  which  no  precedent 
could  be  pleaded,  and  sent  writs  of  ship-money  to  the 
inland  counties.  This  was  a  stretch  of  power  on  which 
Elizabeth  herself  had  not  ventured,  even  at  a  time  when 
all  laws  might  with  propriety  have  been  made  to  bend  to 
that  highest  law,  the  safety  of  the  state.  The  inland  coun- 
ties had  not  been  required  to  furnish  ships,  or  money  in 
the  room  of  ships,  even  when  the  Armada  was  approaching 
our  shores.  It  seemed  intolerable  that  a  prince  who,  by 
assenting  to  the  Petition  of  Right,  had  relinquished  the 
power  of  levying  ship-money  even  in  the  out-ports,  should 
be  the  first  to  levy  it  on  parts  of  the  kingdom  where  it 
had  been  unknown  under  the  most  absolute  of  his  prede- 
cessors. 

Clarendon  distinctly  admits  that  this  tax  was  intended, 
not  only  for  the  support  of  the  navy,  bu^  "for  a  spring 
and  magazine  that  should  have  no  bottom,  and  for  an 
everlasting  supply  of  all  occasions."  The  nation  well  un- 
derstood this;  and  from  one  end  of  England  to  the  other 
the  public  mind   was  strongly  excited. 

Buckinghamshire  was  assessed  at  a  ship  of  four  hundred 
and  fifty  tons,  or  a  sum  of  four  thousand  five  hundred 
pounds.  The  share  of  the  tax  which  fell  to  Hampden 
was  very  small;  so  small,  indeed,  that  the  sheriff  was 
blamed  for  setting  so  wealthy  a  man  at  so  low  a  rate. 
But,  though  the  sum  demanded  was  a  trifle,  the  principle 
involved  was  fearfully  important.  Hampden,  after  con- 
sulting the  most  eminent  constitutional  lawyers  of  the 
time,  refused  to  pay  the  few  shillings  at  which  he  was 
assessed,  and  determined  to  incur  all  the  certain  expense. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  25 

and  the  probable  danger,  of  bringing  to  a  solemn  hearing 
this  great  controversy  between  the  people  and  the  Crown. 
"Till  this  time,"  says  Clarendon,  "he  was  rather  of  repu- 
tation in  his  own  country  than  of  public  discourse  or 
fame  in  the  kingdom;  but  then  he  grew  the  argument 
of  all  tongues,  ever;^-  man  inquiring  who  and  what  he 
wa«  that  durst,  at  his  own  charge,  support  the  liberty  and 
prn<s]5ority  of  the  kingdom." 
'  Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1636,  this  great  cause 
camo  on  in  the  Exchequer  Chamber  before  all  the  judges 
of  England.  The  leading  counsel  against  the  writ  was 
the  celebrated  Oliver  St.  John,  a  man  whose  temper  was 
melancholy,  whose  manners  were  reserved,  and  who  was  as 
yet  little  known  in  Westminster  Hall,  but  whose  great 
talents  had  not  escaped  the  penetrating  eye  of  Hampden. 
Tlio  Attorney-General  and  Solicitor-General  appeared  for 
the  Crown. 

The  arguments  of  the  counsel  occupied  many  days;  and 
the  p]xchequcr  Chamber  took  a  considerable  time  for  de- 
liberation. The  opinion  of  the  l)ench  was  divided.  So 
clearly  was  the  law  in  favor  of  Ilanipdcn  that,  though  the 
judges  held  their  situations  oidy  during  the  royal  pleas- 
ure, the  majority  against  him  was  the  least  possible.  Five 
of  the  twelve  pronounced  in  his  favor.  The  remaining 
.seven  gave  their  voices  for  the  writ. 

Tlie  only  effect  of  this  decision  was  to  make  the  public 
indignation  stronger  and  deeper.  "The  judgment,"  says 
Clareiirlon,  "jirovcd  of  more  advantage  and  credit  to  the 
goiitlemaii  eondeniiii'd  than  to  the  iving's  service."  The 
courage  wliieb  Ilamiidcn  had  .shown  on  this  occasion,  as 
the  same  historian  tells  us,  "raised  his  reputntifHi  to  a 
great  height  generally  tlirf)Ugliont  the  kingdom."  Kven 
courtiers  and  crowii-lawyers  spok*-  respectfully  of  him. 
"His  carriage,"  says  Clarendon,  "throughout  that  agita- 
tirm,  was  with  that  rare  temper  and  modesty,  that  they 
who  watched  him  narrowly  to  find  some  advantage  against 
his  person,  to  make  him  less  resolute  in  his  eause,  were 
comj)elled  to  give  liim  a  just  testimony."  I>ut  his  de- 
meanor, though  it  impressed  Lord  Falkland  with  the  deep- 
est respoet,  thougli  it  drew  forth  the  prjiises  of  Solieitor- 
General  Herbert,  only  kiiulled  intrt  a  fiercer  flame  the  ever- 
burning hatred  of  Strafford.     That  minister,   in   his   let- 


26  HISTOKIOAL  ESSAYS 

ters  to  Laud,  murmured  against  the  lenity  with  which 
Hampden  was  treated.  "In  good  faith,"  he  wrote,  "were 
such  men  rightly  served,  they  should  be  whipped  into 
their  right  wits."  Again  he  says,  "I  still  wish  Mr.  Hamp- 
den, and  others  to  his  likeness,  were  well  whipped  into 
their  right  senses.  And  if  the  rod  be  so  used  that  it  smart 
not,  I  am  the  more  sorry." 

The  person  of  Hampden  was  now  scarcely  safe.  His 
prudence  and  moderation  had  hitherto  disappointed  those 
who  would  gladly  have  had  a  pretense  for  sending  him 
to  the  prison  of  Eliot.  But  he  knew  that  the  eye  of  a 
tyrant  was  on  him.  In  the  year  1637  misgovernment  had 
reached  its  height.  Eight  years  had  passed  without  a 
Parliament.  The  decision  of  the  Exchequer  Chamber  had 
placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  Crown  the  whole  property 
of  the  English  people.  About  the  time  at  which  that  de- 
cision was  pronounced,  Prynne,  Bastwick,  and  Burton 
were  mutilated  by  the  sentence  of  the  Star  Chamber,  and 
sent  to  rot  in  remote  dungeons.  The  estate  and  the  per- 
son of  every  man  who  had  opposed  the  Court  were  at  its 
mercy. 

Hampden  determined  to  leave  England.  Beyond  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  a  few  of  the  persecuted  Puritans  had 
formed,  in  the  wilderness  of  Connecticut,  a  settlement 
which  has  since  become  a  prosperous  commonwealth,  and 
which,  in  spite  of  the  lapse  of  time  and  of  the  change 
of  government,  still  retains  something  of  the  character 
given  to  it  by  its  first  founders.  Lord  Saye  and  Lord 
Brooke  were  the  original  projectors  of  this  scheme  of  emi- 
gration. Hampden  had  been  early  consulted  respecting  it. 
He  was  now,  it  appears,  desirous  to  withdraw  himself  be- 
yond the  reach  of  oppressors  who,  as  he  probal)ly  suspected, 
and  as  we  know,  were  bent  on  punishing  his  manful  re- 
sistance to  their  tyranny.  He  was  accompanied  by  his 
kinsman  Oliver  Cromwell,  over  whom  he  possessed  great 
influence,  and  in  whom  he  alone  had  discovered,  under 
an  exterior  appearance  of  coarseness  and  extravagance, 
those  great  and  commanding  talents  which  were  afterward 
the  admiration  and  the  dread  of  Europe. 

The  cousins  took  their  passage  in  a  vessel  which  lay 
in  the  Thames,  and  which  was  bound  for  North  America. 
They  were  actually  on  board,  when  an  order  in  council 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  27 

appeared,  by  which  the  ship  was  prohibited  from  sailing. 
Seven  other  ships,  filled  with  emigrants,  were  stopped 
at  the  same  time. 

Hampden  and  Cromwell  remained;  and  with  them  re- 
mained the  Evil  Genius  of  the  House  of  Stuart.  The 
tide  of  public  affairs  was  even  now  on  the  turn.  The 
King  had  resolved  to  change  the  ecclesiastical  constitution 
of  Scotland,  and  to  introduce  into  the  public  worship  of 
that  kingdom  ceremonies  which  the  great  body  of  the 
Scots  regarded  as  popish.  This  absurd  attempt  produced, 
first  discontents,  then  riots,  and  at  length  open  rebellion. 
A  provisional  government  was  estal)lishe(l  at  Edinburgh, 
and  its  authority  was  obeyed  throughout  the  kingdom. 
This  government  raised  an  army,  appointed  a  general, 
and  summoned  an  Assembly  of  the  Kirk.  The  famous 
instrument  called  the  Covenant  was  put  forth  at  this  time, 
and  was  eagerly  subscribed  by  the  people. 

The  beginnings  of  this  formidable  insurrection  were 
strangely  neglected  by  the  King  and  his  advisers.  But 
towards  the  close  of  the  year  103s  the  danger  became 
pressing.  An  army  was  raised;  and  early  in  the  following 
spring  Charles  marched  northward  at  the  head  of  a  force 
sufficient,  as  it  seemed,  to  reduce  the  Covenanters  to  sub- 
mission. 

But  Charles  acted  at  this  conjuncture  as  he  acted  at 
every  important  conjuncture  througliout  his  life.  After 
oppressing,  threatening,  and  blustering,  he  hesitated  and 
failed.  He  was  bf)ld  in  the  wrong  j)]ace,  and  timid  in 
the  wrong  place.  He  would  have  shown  his  wisdom  by 
being  afraid  before  the  liturgy  was  read  in  St.  (Jiles's 
chureh.  He  ptit  off  his  fear  till  lie  had  reached  the  Scot- 
tish border  with  his  troops.  Then,  after  a  feeble  cam- 
paign, he  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  insurgents,  and 
withdrew  his  army.  P.ut  the  terms  of  the  pacification 
were  not  obsen'ed.  Each  jiarty  charged  tlic  nther  with  foul 
play.  The  Scots  refused  tf>  disiirni.  'I'Ih-  King  found 
great  difficidty  in  re-assembling  bis  forces.  His  late  expe- 
dition had  drained  his  treasury.  The  revenues  of  the  next 
year  had  been  anticipated.  At  another  time,  he  might 
have  attempted  to  make  up  the  deficiency  by  illegal  ex- 
pedients; but  such  a  course  would  clearly  have  been  dan- 
gerous when  part  of  the  island  was  in  rebellion.     It  was 


28  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

necessary  to  call  a  Parliament.  After  eleven  years  of 
suffering,  the  voice  of  the  nation  was  to  be  heard  once 
more. 

In  April,  1640,  the  Parliament  met;  and  the  King  had 
another  chance  of  conciliating  his  people.  The  new 
House  of  Commons  was,  beyond  all  comparison,  the  least 
refractory  House  of  Commons  that  had  been  known  for 
many  years.  Indeed,  we  have  never  been  able  to  under- 
stand how,  after  so  long  a  period  of  misgovernment,  the 
representatives  of  the  nation  should  have  shown  so  mod- 
erate and  so  loyal  a  disposition.  Clarendon  speaks  with 
admiration  of  their  dutiful  temper.  "The  House,  gen- 
erally," says  he,  "was  exceedingly  disposed  to  please  the 
King,  and  to  do  him  service."  "It  could  never  be  hoped," 
he  observes  elsewhere,  "that  more  sober  or  dispassionate 
men  would  ever  meet  together  in  that  place,  or  fewer  who 
brought  ill  purposes  with  them." 

In  this  Parliament  Hampden  took  his  seat  as  member 
for  Buckinghamshire,  and  thenceforward,  till  the  day  of 
his  death,  gave  himself  up,  with  scarcely  any  intermission, 
to  public  affairs.  He  took  lodgings  in  Gray's  Inn  Lane, 
near  the  house  occupied  by  Pym,  with  whom  he  lived  in 
habits  of  the  closest  intimacy.  He  was  now  decidedly 
the  most  popular  man  in  England.  The  Opposition  looked 
to  him  as  their  leader,  and  the  servants  of  the  King  treated 
him  with  marked  respect. 

Charles  requested  the  Parliament  to  vote  an  immediate 
supply,  and  pledged  his  word  that,  if  they  would  gratify 
him  in  this  request,  he  would  afterward  give  them  time 
to  represent  their  grievances  to  him.  The  grievances  un- 
der which  the  nation  suffered  were  so  serious,  and  the 
royal  word  had  been  so  shamefully  violated,  that  the  Com- 
mons could  hardly  be  expected  to  comply  with  this  request. 
During  the  first  week  of  the  session,  the  minutes  of  the 
proceedings  against  Hampden  were  laid  on  the  table  by 
Oliver  St.  John,  and  a  committee  reported  that  the  case 
was  matter  of  grievance.  The  King  sent  a  message  to 
the  Commons,  offering,  if  they  would  vote  him  twelve 
subsidies,  to  give  up  the  prerogative  of  ship-money.  Many 
years  before,  he  had  received  five  subsidies  in  considera- 
tion of  his  assent  to  the  Petition  of  Right.  By  assenting 
to  that  petition,  he  had  given  up  the  right  of  levying  ship- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  29 

money,  if  he  ever  possessed  it.  How  he  had  observed  the 
promises  made  to  his  third  Parliament,  all  England  knew: 
and  it  was  not  strange  that  the  Commons  should  be  some- 
what unwilling  to  buy  from  him,  over  and  over  again, 
their  own  ancient  and  undoubted  inheritance. 

His  message,  however,  was  not  unfavorably  received. 
The  Commons  were  ready  to  give  a  large  supply ;  but  they 
were  not  disposed  to  give  it  in  exchange  for  a  prerogative 
of  which  they  altogether  denied  the  existence.  If  they 
acceded  to  the  proposal  of  the  King,  they  recognized  the 
legality  of  the  writs  of  ship-money. 

Hampden,  who  was  a  greater  master  of  parliamentary 
tactics  than  any  man  of  his  time,  saw  that  this  was  the 
prevailing  feeling,  and  availed  himself  of  it  with  great 
dexterity.  He  moved  that  the  question  should  be  put, 
"Whether  the  House  would  consent  to  the  proposition 
made  by  the  King,  as  contained  in  the  message."  Hyde 
interfered,  and  proposed  that  the  question  should  be  di- 
vided ;  that  the  sense  of  the  House  should  be  taken  merely 
on  the  point  whether  there  should  be  a  supply  or  no  sup- 
ply; and  that  the  manner  and  the  amount  should  be  left 
for  subsequent  consideration. 

The  majority  of  the  House  was  for  granting  a  supply, 
hut  against  granting  it  in  the  manner  proposed  by  the 
King.  If  the  House  had  divided  on  iranipdcn's  qu(»stion. 
tlu'  Court  would  liave  sustained  a  defeat;  if  on  Hyde's, 
the  Court  would  have  gained  an  apparent  victory.  Some 
members  ealled  for  Hyde's  motion,  others  for  Hampden's. 
In  the  midst  of  the  uproar,  the  secretary  of  state.  Sir 
Harry  Vane,  rose  and  stated  that  the  supply  would  not 
be  accepted  unless  it  wore  vf)ted  aeeordiiig  to  tlie  tenor  of 
the  message.  Vane  was  supported  by  Herbert,  the  Solici- 
tor-Cieneral.  Hyde'.s  motion  was  therefore  no  further 
pressed,  and  the  debate  on  the  general  question  was  ad- 
journed till  the  next  clay. 

On  the  next  day  the  King  came  down  to  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  dissolved  the  Parliament  witli  an  angry  speeeh. 
His  conduet  on  tliis  occasion  has  never  been  defended  by 
any  of  his  apologists.  Clarendon  eondemns  it  severely. 
"No  man,"  says  he,  "eould  imagine  wbat  offense  the  Com- 
mons had  given."  The  ftffense  which  they  had  given  is 
plain.     They  had,  indeed,  behaved  most  temperately  and 


30  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

most  respectfully.  But  they  had  shown  a  disposition  to 
redress  wronp;s  and  to  vindicate  the  laws;  and  this  was 
enough  to  make  them  hateful  to  a  king  whom  no  law 
could  bind,  and  whose  whole  government  was  one  system 
of  wrong. 

The  nation  received  the  intelligence  of  the  dissolution 
with  sorrow  and  indignation.  The  only  persons  to  whom 
this  event  gave  pleasure  were  those  few  discerning  men 
who  thought  that  the  maladies  of  the  state  were  beyond 
the  reach  of  gentle  remedies.  Oliver  St.  John's  joy  was 
too  great  for  concealment.  It  lighted  up  his  dark  and 
melancholy  features,  and  made  him,  for  the  first  time,  in- 
discreetly communicative.  He  told  Hyde  that  things 
must  be  worse  before  they  could  be  better,  and  that  the 
dissolved  Parliament  would  never  have  done  all  that  was 
necessary.  St.  John,  we  think,  was  in  the  right.  No 
good  could  then  have  been  done  by  any  Parliament  which 
did  not  fully  understand  that  no  confidence  could  safely 
be  placed  in  the  King,  and  that,  while  he  enjoyed  more 
than  the  shadow  of  power,  the  nation  would  never  enjoy 
more  than  the  shadow  of  liberty. 

As  soon  as  Charles  had  dismissed  the  Parliament,  he 
threw  several  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  into 
prison.  Ship-money  was  exacted  more  rigorously  than 
ever;  and  the  Mayor  and  Sheriffs  of  London  were  prose- 
cuted before  the  Star  Chamber  for  slackness  in  levying 
it.  Wentworth,  it  is  said,  observed  with  characteristic 
insolence  and  cruelty,  that  things  would  never  go  right 
till  the  Aldermen  were  hanged.  Large  sums  were  raised 
by  force  on  those  counties  in  which  the  troops  were  quar- 
tered. All  the  wretched  shifts  of  a  beggared  exchequer 
were  tried.  Forced  loans  were  raised.  Great  quantities 
of  goods  were  bought  on  long  credit  and  sold  for  ready 
money.  A  scheme  for  debasing  the  currency  was  under 
consideration.  At  length,  in  August,  the  King  again 
marched  northward. 

The  Scots  advanced  into  England  to  meet  him.  It  is 
by  no  means  improbable  that  this  bold  step  was  taken 
by  the  advice  of  Hampden,  and  of  those  with  whom  he 
acted ;  and  this  has  been  made  matter  of  grave  accusation 
against  the  English  Opposition.  It  is  said  that  to  call  in 
the  aid  of  foreigners  in  a  domestic  quarrel  is  the  worst  of 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  31 

treasons,  and  that  the  Puritan  leaders,  by  taking  this 
course,  showed  that  they  were  regardless  of  the  honor 
and  independence  of  the  nation,  and  anxious  only  for  the 
success  of  their  own  faction.  We  are  utterly  unable  to 
see  any  distinction  between  the  case  of  the  Scotch  inva- 
sion in  1640,  and  the  case  of  the  Dutch  invasion  in  16SS; 
or  rather,  we  see  distinctions  which  are  to  the  advantage 
of  Hampden  and  his  friends.  We  believe  Charles  to  have 
been  a  worse  and  more  dangerous  king  than  his  son.  The 
Dutch  were  strangers  to  us,  the  Scots  a  kindred  people, 
speaking  the  same  language,  subjects  of  the  same  prince, 
not  aliens  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  If,  indeed,  it  had  been 
possible  that  a  Scotch  army  or  a  Dutch  army  could  have 
enslaved  f]ngland,  those  who  persuaded  Leslie  to  cross 
the  Tweed,  and  those  who  signed  the  invitation  to  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  would  have  been  traitors  to  their  coun- 
trj'.  But  such  a  result  was  out  of  the  question.  All  that 
fitlKT  a  Scotch  or  a  Dutch  invasion  could  do  was  to  give 
the  puldic  feeling  of  England  an  opportunity  to  show  it- 
self. Both  expeditions  would  have  ended  in  complete  and 
ludicrous  discomfiture,  had  Charles  and  James  been  sup- 
ported by  their  soldiers  and  their  people.  In  neither  case, 
therefore,  was  the  independence  of  England  endangered ; 
in  both  cases  her  liberties  were  preservecl. 

The  second  camijaign  of  Charles  against  the  Scots  was 
short  and  ignominous.  His  soldiers,  as  soon  as  they  saw 
the  enemy,  ran  away  as  English  sobliers  have  never  run 
either  beff)re  or  since.  It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that 
their  flight  was  the  effect,  not  of  cowardice,  but  of  disaf- 
fection. The  ff>ur  ii(»rtliern  cfninties  of  England  were  oc- 
cupied by  the  S<'otch  army,  and  the  King  retire<l  to  York. 

The  game  of  tyranny  was  now  up.  Charles  had  risked 
and  lost  his  last  stake.  It  is  not  easy  to  retrace  tlie  mor- 
tifications and  humiliations  which  the  t.vrant  now  had  to 
endure,  without  a  feeling  of  vindictive  pleasure.  His 
army  was  mutinous;  his  treasnr.v  was  empty;  bis  people 
clamored  for  a  Parliament;  addresses  and  petitions  against 
the  governmont  were  present^'d.  RtrafTord  was  for  shoot- 
ing the  petitioners  by  martial  law;  but  tlx'  King  could  not 
trust  the  soldiers.  A  great  coiincil  of  Peers  was  called  at 
York;  but  the  King  could  not  triist  even  the  Peers.  He 
struggled,  evade^l.  hesitated,  tried  every  shift,  rather  than 


32  HISTOKTCAL  ESSAYS 

again  face  the  representatives  of  his  injured  people.  At 
length  no  shift  was  left.  He  made  a  truce  with  the  Scots, 
and  summoned  a  Parliament. 

The  leaders  of  the  popular  party  had,  after  the  late  dis- 
solution, remained  in  London  for  the  purpose  of  organ- 
izing- a  scheme  of  opposition  to  the  Court.  They  now 
exerted  themselves  to  the  utmost.  Hampden,  in  particu- 
lar, rode  from  county  to  county,  exhorting  the  electors  to 
give  their  votes  to  men  worthy  of  their  confidence.  The 
great  majority  of  the  returns  was  on  the  side  of  the  Oppo- 
sition. Hampden  was  himself  chosen  member  both  for 
Wendover  and  Buckinghamshire.  He  made  his  election 
to  serve  for  the  county. 

On  the  third  of  November,  1640,  a  day  to  be  long  re- 
membered, met  that  great  Parliament,  destined  to  every 
extreme  of  fortune,  to  empire  and  to  servitude,  to  glory 
and  to  contempt;  at  one  time  the  sovereign  of  its  sove- 
reign, at  another  time  the  servant  of  its  servants.  From 
the  first  day  of  meeting  the  attendance  was  great;  and  the 
aspect  of  the  members  was  that  of  men  not  disposed  to 
do  the  work  negligently.  The  dissolution  of  the  late 
Parliament  had  convinced  most  of  them  that  half  meas- 
ures would  no  longer  suffice.  Clarendon  tells  us,  that 
"the  same  men  who,  six  months  before,  wei'e  observed  to 
be  of  very  moderate  tempers,  and  to  wish  that  gentle  reme- 
dies might  be  applied,  talked  now  in  another  dialect  both 
of  kings  and  persons;  and  said  that  they  must  now  be 
of  another  temper  than  they  were  the  last  Parliament." 
The  debt  of  vengeance  was  swollen  by  all  the  usury  which 
had  been  accumulating  during  many  years;  and  i^ayment 
was  made  to  the  full. 

This  memorable  crisis  called  forth  parliamentary  abili- 
ties such  as  England  had  never  before  seen.  Among  the 
most  distinguished  mem])ers  of  the  House  of  Commons 
were  Falkland,  Hyde.  T)ig])y,  young  Harry  Vane,  Oliver 
St.  John,  Denzil  Hollis,  Nathaniel  Fiennes.  But  two 
men  exercised  a  paramount  influence  over  the  legislature 
and  the  country,  Pym  and  Hampden  ;  and,  by  the  univer- 
sal consent  of  friends  and  enemies,  the  first  place  belonged 
to  Hampden. 

On  occasions  which  required  set  speeches  Pym  generally 
took  the  lead.     Hampden  very  seldom  rose  till  late  in  a 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  33 

debate.  His  speaking  was  of  that  kind  which  has,  in 
every  age,  been  held  in  the  highest  estimation  by  Englisii 
Parliaments,  ready,  weighty,  perspicuous,  condensed. 
His  perception  of  the  feelings  of  the  House  was  exquisite, 
his  temper  unalterably  placid,  his  manner  eminently  cour- 
teous and  gentlemanlike.  "Even  with  those,"  says  Clar- 
endon, "who  were  able  to  preserve  themselves  from  his  in- 
fusions, and  who  discerned  those  opinions  to  be  fixed  in 
him  with  which  they  could  not  comply,  he  always  left  the 
character  of  an  ingenious  and  conscientious  person."  His 
talents  for  business  were  as  remarkable  as  his  talents  for 
debate.  "He  was,"  says  Clarendon,  "of  an  industry  and 
vigilance  not  to  be  tired  out  or  wearied  by  the  most  labor- 
ious, and  of  parts  not  to  be  imposed  upon  by  the  most 
subtle  and  sharp."  Yet  it  was  rather  to  his  moral  than  to 
his  intellectual  qualities  that  he  was  indebted  for  the  vast 
influence  which  he  possessed.  "When  this  parliament  be- 
gan,"— we  again  quote  Clarendon, — "the  eyes  of  all  men 
were  fixed  upon  him,  as  their  pairia  pater,  and  the  pilot 
tliat  must  steer  the  vessel  through  the  tempests  and  rocks 
which  threatened  it.  And  I  am  persuaded  his  power  and 
interest  at  that  time  were  greater  to  do  good  or  hurt  than 
any  man's  in  the  kingdom,  or  than  any  man  of  his  rank 
hath  had  in  any  time;  for  his  reputation  of  honesty  was 
universal,  and  his  aflFoctions  seemed  so  jinblicly  guided, 
that  no  corrupt  or  private  ends  could  bias  tluin.  .  .  .  He 
was  indeed  a  very  wise  man,  and  of  great  parts,  and  pos- 
sessed with  the  most  absolute  spirit  of  poinilarity,  and  the 
most  absobitf!  faculties  to  govern  the  i»eojiIe,  of  any  man  I 
ever  knew." 

It  is  sufficient  in  roe;ipitulate  shortly  the  acts  of  the 
Long  Parliament,  <luring  its  first  session.  Strafford  and 
Laud  were  impeached  and  imprisoned.  Strafford  was 
afterwards  attiiinted  by  P)il].  and  executed.  Lord  Keeper 
Finch  fieri  to  Holland,  SerTetar\'  Windeli.ink  to  France. 
All  those  whom  the  King  had.  during  the  last  twelve  year«. 
employed  for  tlie  oppression  of  Jn's  peojile.  from  the  servile 
judges  who  had  pronounced  in  favor  of  the  crown  against 
Hampden  down  to  the  sheriffs  who  had  distrained  for 
ship-money,  and  the  custom-house  officers  who  had  levied 
tonnage  and  poinidage,  were  summoned  to  answer  for 
their  conduct.     The  Star  Chamber,  the  High  Commission 


34  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Court,  the  Council  of  York,  were  abolished.  Those  un- 
fortunate victims  of  Laud  who,  after  underpcoing  ignomi- 
nious exposure  and  cruel  manglings,  had  been  sent  to 
languish  in  distant  prisons,  were  set  at  liberty,  and  con- 
ducted through  London  in  triumphant  procession.  The 
King  was  compelled  to  give  the  judges  patents  for  life  or 
during  good  behavior.  He  was  deprived  of  those  oppres- 
sive powers  which  were  the  last  relics  of  the  old  feudal 
tenures.  The  Forest  Courts  and  the  Stannary  Courts 
were  reformed.  It  was  provided  that  the  Parliament  then 
sitting  should  not  be  prorogued  or  dissolved  without  its 
own  consent,  and  that  a  Parliament  should  be  held  at 
least  once  every  three  years. 

Many  of  these  measures  Lord  Clarendon  allows  to  have 
been  most  salutary ;  and  few  persons  will,  in  our  times, 
deny  that,  in  the  laws  passed  during  this  session,  the  good 
greatly  preponderated  over  the  evil.  The  abolition  of 
those  three  hateful  courts,  the  Northern  Council,  the  Star 
Chamber,  and  the  High  Commission,  would  alone  entitle 
the  Long  Parliament  to  the  lasting  gratitude  of  Eng- 
lishmen. 

The  proceeding  against  Strafford  undoubtedly  seems 
hard  to  people  living  in  our  days.  It  would  probably  have 
seemed  merciful  and  moderate  to  people  living  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  It  is  curious  to  compare  the  trial  of 
Charles's  minister  with  the  trial,  if  it  can  be  so  called,  of 
Lord  Seymour  of  Sudeley,  in  the  blessed  reign  of  Edward 
the  Sixth.  None  of  the  great  reformers  of  our  Church 
doubted  the  propriety  of  passing  an  act  of  Parliament 
for  cutting  off  Lord  Seymour's  head  without  a  legal  con- 
viction. The  pious  Cranmer  voted  for  that  act;  the  pious 
Latimer  preached  for  it;  the  pious  Edward  returned 
thanks  for  it  and  all  the  pious  Lords  of  the  council  to- 
gether exhorted  their  victim  to  what  they  were  pleased 
facetiously  to  call  "the  quiet  and  patient  suffering  of 
justice." 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  defend  the  proceedings  against 
Strafford  !iy  any  such  comparison.  They  are  justified,  in 
our  opinion,  by  that  which  alone  justifies  capital  punish- 
ment or  any  punishment,  by  that  which  alone  justifies  war, 
by  the  public  danErer.  That  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 
public  danger  which  will  justify  a  legislature  in  sentenc- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  35 

ing  a  man  to  death  by  retrospective  law,  few  people,  we 
suppose,  will  deny.  Few  people,  for  example,  will  deny 
that  the  French  Convention  was  perfectly  justified  in 
placinj?  Robespierre,  St.  Just,  and  Couthon  under  the  ban 
of  the  law,  without  a  trial.  This  proceeding  diifered  from 
the  proceeding  against  Straiford  only  in  being  much  more 
rapid  and  violent.  Stratford  was  fully  heard.  Robe- 
spierre was  not  suffered  to  defend  himself.  Was  there, 
then,  in  the  case  of  Strafford,  a  danger  sufficient  to  justify 
an  act  of  attainder?  We  believe  that  there  was.  We  be- 
lieve that  the  contest  in  which  the  Parliament  was  en- 
gaged against  the  King  was  a  contest  for  the  security  of 
our  property,  for  the  liberty  of  our  persons,  for  every- 
thing which  makes  us  to  differ  from  the  subjects  of  Don 
Miguel.  We  believe  that  the  cause  of  the  Commons  was 
such  as  justified  them  in  resisting  the  King,  in  raising^ 
an  army,  in  sending  thousands  of  brave  men  to  kill  and 
to  be  killed.  An  act  of  attainder  is  surely  not  more  a 
departure  from  the  ordinary  course  of  law  than  a  civil 
war.  An  act  of  attaindt^r  proihices  much  less  suffering 
than  a  civil  war.  We  are,  therefore,  unable  to  discover 
on  what  princijjle  it  can  be  maintained  that  a  cause  which 
justifies  a  civil  war  will  not  justify  an  act  of  attainder. 

Many  specious  arguments  have  been  urged  against  the 
retrospcftive  law  by  which  Strafford  was  condemned  to^ 
death.  But  all  these  arguments  proceed  on  the  supi)osi- 
tion  that  the  crisis  was  an  ordinary  crisis.  The  attaindei* 
was,  in  truth,  a  revolutionary  measure.  Tt  was  part  of 
a  system  of  resistance  which  opjtrcssion  had  rendered  nec- 
eflsary.  Tt  is  as  unjust  to  judge  of  the  conduct  pursued 
by  the  Long  Parlijiincut  tf)ward  Strafford  on  nrdinary 
pririci{)]cs,  as  it  would  have  been  to  indii-t  I'airfa.x  for 
murder  because  he  cut  down  a  coronet  at  Naseby.  From 
the  day  on  whir-li  the  TrouH('.>^  met,  there  was  a  war  wagrv] 
by  them  against  the  King,  a  war  for  all  that  they  held 
dear,  a  war  carried  on  at  first  by  means  of  parliamentary' 
forms,  at  last  by  physical  force;  an<l,  as  in  the  se«'ond 
stage  of  that  war,  so  in  the  first,  they  were  entitled  to  do 
many  things  which,  in  rpiiet  times,  would  have  been 
culpable. 

We  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  those  who  were  aft- 
erwards the  most  distinguished  ornaments  of  the  King's- 


36  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

party  supported  the  bill  of  attainder.  It  is  almost  certain 
that  Hyde  voted  for  it.  It  is  quite  certain  that  Falkland 
both  voted  and  spoke  for  it.  The  opinion  of  Hampden, 
as  far  as  it  can  be  collected  from  a  very  obscure  note  of 
one  of  his  speeches,  seems  to  have  been  that  the  proceeding 
by  Bill  was  unnecessary,  and  that  it  would  be  a  better 
course  to  obtain  judgment  on  the  impeachment. 

During  this  year  the  Court  opened  a  negotiation  with 
the  leaders  of  the  Opposition.  The  Earl  of  Bedford  was 
invited  to  form  an  administration  on  popular  principles. 
St.  John  was  made  solicitor-general.  Hollis  was  to  have 
been  secretary  of  state,  and  Pym  chancellor  of  the  ex- 
chequer. The  post  of  tutor  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
designed  for  Hampden.  The  death  of  the  Earl  of  Bed- 
ford prevented  this  arrangement  from  being  carried  into 
effect ;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether,  even  if  that  noble- 
man's life  had  been  prolonged,  Charles  would  ever  have 
consented  to  surround  himself  with  counselors  whom  he 
could  not  but  hate  and  fear. 

Lord  Clarendon  admits  that  the  conduct  of  Hampden 
during  this  year  was  mild  and  temperate,  that  he  seemed 
disposed  rather  to  soothe  than  to  excite  the  public  mind, 
and  that,  when  violent  and  unreasonable  motions  were 
made  by  his  followers,  he  generally  left  the  House  before 
the  division,  lest  he  should  seem  to  give  countenance  to 
their  extravagance.  His  temper  was  moderate.  He  sin- 
cerely loved  peace.  He  felt  also  great  fear  lest  too  precip- 
itate a  movement  should  produce  a  reaction.  The  events 
which  took  place  early  in  the  next  session  clearly  showed 
that  this  fear  was  not  unfounded. 

During  the  autumn  the  Pfirliament  adjourned  for  a  few 
weks.  Before  the  recess,  Hampden  was  despatched  to 
Scotland  by  the  House  of  Commons,  nominally  as  a  com- 
missioner, to  obtain  security  for  a  debt  which  the  Scots 
had  contracted  during  the  late  invasion;  but  in  truth  that 
he  might  keep  watch  over  the  King,  who  had  now  repaired 
to  Edinburgh,  for  the  purpose  of  finally  adjusting  the 
points  of  difference  which  remained  between  him  and  his 
northern  subjects.  It  was  the  business  of  Hampden  to 
dissuade  the  Covenanters  from  making  their  peace  with 
the  Court  at  the  expense  of  the  popular  party  in  England. 

While  the  King  was   in   Scotland,  the  Irish   rebellion 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  37 

broke  out.  The  suddenness  and  violence  of  this  terrible 
explosion  excited  a  strange  suspicion  in  the  public  mind. 
The  Queen  was  a  professed  Papist.  The  King  and  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  had  not  indeed  been  reconciled 
to  the  See  of  Rome;  but  they  had,  while  acting-  towards 
the  Puritan  party  with  the  utmost  rigor,  and  speaking 
of  that  party  with  the  utmost  contempt,  shown  great  ten- 
derness and  respect  towards  the  Catholic  religion  and  its 
professors.  In  spite  of  the  wishes  of  successive  Parlia- 
ments, the  Protestant  separatists  had  been  cruelly  perse- 
cuted. And  at  the  same  time,  in  spite  of  the  wishes  of 
those  very  Parliaments,  laws  which  were  in  force  against 
the  Papists,  and  which,  unjustifiaV)le  as  they  were,  suited 
the  temper  of  that  age,  had  not  been  carried  into  execu- 
tion. The  Protestant  non-conformists  had  not  yet  learned 
toleration  in  the  school  of  sutToring.  They  reprobated  the 
partial  lenity  which  the  government  showed  towards  idol- 
aters, and,  witli  .some  show  of  reason,  ascribed  to  bad 
motives,  coiuiuct  wbifli.  in  such  a  king  as  Charles,  and 
such  a  prelate  as  Laud,  could  not  possibly  be  ascribed 
to  humanity  or  to  liberality  of  sentiment.  The  violent 
Arminianism  of  the  An-hhishop,  his  childish  attachment 
to  ceremfiiiies,  his  superstitious  veneration  for  altars,  vest- 
ments, and  painted  windows,  his  bigoted  zeal  for  the  con- 
stitution and  the  privileges  of  his  order,  his  known  oj)in- 
ions  respecting  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  liad  excited 
jrreat  disgust  throughout  tliat  large  party  which  was  every 
day  becoming  more  and  more  hostile  to  Rome,  and  more 
and  more  indinr-d  to  tlie  rioctrines  and  the  discipline  of 
Geneva.  It  was  believed  by  many  that  the  Irisli  reliel- 
li'on  had  been  .secretly  encourage<l  l>y  the  Court;  and. 
when  the  Parliament  met  again  in  November,  aftor 
a  short  recess,  the  Puritans  were  more  intr.ictable  than 
ever. 

I»ut  that  which  HamiKlen  had  ("eared  had  come  to  pass. 
A  reaction  ha«l  taken  plai-c.  A  large  body  of  moderate 
and  well-meaning  men.  who  had  heartily  concurred  in 
th(i  strong  measures  atjofjtefl  before  the  recess,  were  in- 
clined to  pause.  Their  oi)inion  was  that,  during  many 
years,  the  country  had  been  grievously  misgoverned,  and 
that  a  great  reform  bad  been  necessary;  but  that  a  great 
reform  had  been  made,  that  the  grievances  of  the  nation 


38  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

had  been  fully  redressed,  that  sufficient  vengeance  had 
been  exacted  for  the  past,  that  sufficient  security  had 
been  provided  for  the  future,  and  that  it  would,  therefore, 
be  both  ungrateful  and  unwise  to  make  any  further  at- 
tacks on  the  royal  prerogative.  In  support  of  this  opinion 
many  plausible  arguments  have  been  used.  But  to  all 
these  arguments  there  is  one  short  answer.  The  King 
could  not  be  trusted. 

At  the  head  of  those  who  may  be  called  the  Constitu- 
tional Royalists  were  Falkland,  Hyde,  and  Culpeper.  All 
these  eminent  men  had,  during  the  former  year,  been  in 
very  decided  opposition  to  the  Court.  In  some  of  those 
very  proceedings  with  which  their  admirers  reproach 
Hampden,  they  had  taken  a  more  decided  part  than  Hamp- 
den. They  had  all  been  concerned  in  the  impeachment  of 
Strafford.  They  had  all,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  voted 
:for  the  Bill  of  Attainder.  Certainly  none  of  them  voted 
against  it.  Thoy  had  all  agreed  to  the  act  which  made 
the  consent  of  the  Parliament  necessary  to  a  dissolution 
or  prorogation,  Hyde  had  been  among  the  most  active 
of  those  who  attacked  the  Council  of  York.  Falkland 
had  voted  for  the  exclusion  of  the  bishops  from  the  Upper 
House.  They  were  now  inclined  to  halt  in  the  path  of 
reform,  perhaps  to  retrace  a  few  of  their  steps. 

A  direct  collision  soon  took  place  between  the  two 
parties  into  which  the  House  of  Commons,  lately  at  almost 
perfect  unity  with  itself,  was  now  divided.  The  opponents 
of  the  government  moved  that  celebrated  address  to  the 
King  which  is  known  by  the  name  of  the  Grand  Remon- 
strance. In  this  address  all  the  oppressive  acts  of  the 
preceding  fifteen  years  were  set  forth  with  great  energy 
of  language;  and,  in  conclusion,  the  King  was  entreated 
to  employ  no  ministers  in  whom  the  Parliament  could  not 
confide. 

The  debate  on  the  Remonstrance  was  long  and  stormy. 
It  commenced  at  nine  in  the  morning  of  the  twenty-first 
of  November,  and  lasted  till  after  midnight.  The  division 
showed  that  a  great  change  had  taken  place  in  the  temper 
of  the  House.  Though  many  members  had  retired  from 
exhaustion,  three  hundred  voted ;  and  the  Remonstrance 
was  carried  by  a  majority  of  only  nine.  A  violent  debate 
followed,  on  the  question  whether  the  minority  should  be 


JOHN  HA:NrPDEN  39 

allowed  to  protest  against  this  decision.  The  excitement 
was  so  great  that  several  members  were  on  the  point  of 
proceeding  to  personal  violence.  "We  had  sheathed  our 
pwords  in  each  other's  bowels,"  says  an  eye-witness,  "had 
not  the  sagacity  and  great  calmness  of  Mr.  Hampden,  by 
a  short  speech,  prevented  it."  The  House  did  not  rise 
till  two  in  the  morning. 

The  situation  of  the  Puritan  leaders  was  now  difficult 
and  full  of  peril.  The  small  majority  which  they  still 
had  might  soon  become  a  minority.  Out  of  doors,  their 
supporters  in  the  higher  and  middle  classes  w^ere  begin- 
ning to  fall  off.  There  was  a  growing  opinion  that  the 
King  had  been  hardly  used.  The  English  are  always  in- 
clined to  side  with  a  weak  party  wliicli  is  in  the  wrong, 
rather  than  with  a  strong  i)arty  which  is  in  the  right. 
This  may  be  seen  in  all  contests,  from  contests  of  boxers 
to  contests  of  faction.  Thus  it  was  that  a  violent  reaction 
took  place  in  favor  of  Charles  the  Second  against  tli.' 
Whigs  in  K'tSl.  Thus  it  was  that  an  ctpially  violent  reac- 
tion took  place  in  favor  of  (Icorge  the  Third  against  tlie 
coalition  in  1784.  A  similar  reaction  was  beginning  to 
take  idace  <liiring  the  second  year  of  the  Long  Parliament. 
.Some  members  of  the  Opjiosition  "had  resumed,"  say* 
Clarendon,  "their  old  resolution  of  leaving  the  kingdom." 
Oliver  Cromwell  openly  declared  that  he  and  many  others 
would  have  emigrated  if  tliey  had  been  left  in  a  minority 
on  the  (juestion  of  the  Kenutustrance. 

Charles  had  now  a  last  chance  of  regaining  the  affection 
of  his  peoi)le.  If  In;  ec)uld  have  resolved  to  givi-.  his  con- 
fidence to  the  leaders  of  the  moderate  party  in  the  House 
of  (.'ommons,  and  to  rr-gulate  his  i)roceedings  by  tbeir  ad- 
vice, he  might  have  been,  not,  indeed,  as  he  had  l»een,  u 
despot,  but  the  ])Owerful  and  respected  king  of  a  free 
peo|)le.  The  nation  might  have  enjoyed  liberty  ami  repose 
under  a  government  with  Falkland  at  its  head,  checked 
by  a  constitutional  Opposition  under  the  conduct  of 
Hampden.  It  was  ufit  necessary  that,  in  order  to  accom- 
I)Iish  this  happy  end,  the  King  should  sacrifice  any  part  of 
his  lawfnl  prerogative,  or  submit  to  any  cctnditions  incon- 
sistent witii  his  dignity.  It  was  ne<-essary  oidy  that  h(> 
should  abstain  from  treachery,  from  vifilence,  from  gross 
breaches  of  the  law.     This  was  all   that  the  nation  was 


40  HISTORICAL  P^SSAYS 

thon  disposoil  tu  rccjuiro  of  liiiii.  And  even  this  was  too 
much. 

For  a  short  time  he  seemed  inclined  to  take  a  wise  and 
temperate  course.  He  resolved  to  make  Falkland  secre- 
tary of  state,  and  Culpeper  chancellor  of  the  exchequer. 
He  declare<l  his  intention  of  conferring  in  a  short  time 
some  important  office  on  Hyde.  He  assured  these  three 
persons  that  he  would  do  nothing  relating  to  the  House 
of  Commons  without  their  joint  advice,  and  that  he  would 
eomnninicate  all  his  designs  to  them  in  the  most  unre- 
served numner.  This  resolution,  had  he  adhered  to  it, 
would  have  averted  many  years  of  blood  and  mourning. 
But  "in  very  few  days,"  says  Clarendon,  "he  did  fatally 
swerve  from  it." 

On  the  third  of  January,  1642,  without  giving  the 
slightest  hint  of  his  intention  to  those  advisers  whom  he 
had  solemnly  promised  to  consult,  he  sent  down  the  attor- 
ney-general to  impeach  Lord  Kimbolton,  Hampden,  Pym, 
Hollis,  and  two  other  members  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
at  the  bar  of  the  Lords,  on  a  charge  of  High  Treason. 
It  is  difficult  to  find  in  the  whole  history  of  England  such 
an  instance  of  tyranny,  i)erfidy,  and  folly.  The  most  pre- 
cious and  ancient  rights  of  the  subject  were  violated  by 
this  act.  The  only  way  in  which  Hampden  and  Pym 
could  legally  be  tried  for  treason  at  the  suit  of  the  King, 
was  by  a  petty  jury  on  a  bill  found  by  a  grand  jury.  The 
attorney-general  had  no  right  to  impeach  them.  The 
House  of  Lords  had  no  right  to  try  them. 

The  Commons  ref\ised  to  surrender  their  members. 
The  Peers  showed  no  inclination  to  usurp  the  unconstitu- 
tional jurisdiction  which  the  King  attempted  to  force  on 
tlu-m.  A  contest  began,  in  which  violence  and  weakness 
were  on  the  one  side,  law  and  resolution  on  the  other. 
Charles  sent  an  officer  to  seal  uj)  the  lodgings  and  trunks 
of  the  accused  members.  The  Commons  sent  their  ser- 
geant to  break  the  seals.  The  tyrant  resolved  to  follow 
up  one  outrage  by  another.  In  making  the  charge,  he 
had  struck  at  the  institution  of  juries.  In  executing  the 
arrest,  he  struck  at  the  privileges  of  Parliament.  He  re- 
solved to  go  to  the  House  in  person  with  an  armed  force, 
and  there  to  seize  the  lenders  of  the  Opposition,  while  en- 
gaged in  the  discharge  of  their  parliamentary  duties. 


\ 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  41 

What  was  his  purpose?  Is  it  possible  to  believe  that 
he  had  no  definite  purpose,  that  he  took  the  most  important 
step  of  his  whole  reign  without  having  for  one  moment 
considered  what  might  be  its  effects?  Is  it  possible  to 
believe  that  he  went  merely  for  the  purpose  of  making 
himself  a  laughing-stock,  that  he  intended,  if  he  had 
found  the  accused  members,  and  if  they  had  refused,  as  it 
was  their  right  and  duty  to  refuse,  the  submission  which 
he  illegally  demanded,  to  leave  the  House  without  bring- 
ing them  away  ^  If  we  reject  both  these  suppositions,  we 
must  believe,  and  we  certainly  do  believe,  that  he  went 
fully  determined  to  carry  his  unlawful  design  into  effect 
by,  violence;  and,  if  necessary,  to  shed  the  blood  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Opposition  on  the  very  floor  of  the  Parlia- 
ment House. 

Lady  Carlisle  conveyed  intelligence  of  the  design  to 
Pym.  The  five  members  had  time  to  withdraw  before  the 
arrival  of  Charles.  They  left  the  House  as  he  was  enter- 
ing New  Palace  Yard.  He  was  accompanied  by  about 
two  hundred  halberdiers  of  his  guard,  and  by  many  gen- 
tlemen of  the  Court  armed  with  swords.  He  walked  up 
Westminster  Hall.  At  the  southern  end  of  the  Hall  his 
attendants  divided  to  the  right  and  left,  and  formed  a  lane 
to  the  door  of  the  House  of  Coinmons.  He  knocked,  en- 
tered, darted  a  look  toward  the  place  which  Pym  usually 
occupie<l,  and,  seeing  it  empty,  walked  up  to  the  talile. 
The  Speaker  fell  on  bis  knee.  The  members  rose  and  un- 
covered their  heads  in  profound  silence,  and  the  King 
took  his  seat  in  the  chair.  He  looked  round  the  House. 
But  the  five  members  wen;  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  inter- 
rogated the  Speaker.  Tlie  Speaker  answered,  that  he  was 
merely  the  organ  of  tlie  House,  and  iiad  neither  eyes  to 
see,  nor  tongue  to  speak,  but  according  to  their  direction. 
The  King  ninttered  a  few  feeble  sent<'nees  al)out  his  re- 
spect for  the  laws  of  the  realm,  and  the  privileges  of 
Parliament,  and  retired.  As  he  passed  along  the  benches, 
several  resolute  voices  called  out  audibly  "Privilege!"  He 
returned  to  \\  liiteball  with  his  company  of  bravoes,  who, 
while  ho  was  in  the  House,  had  been  impatiently  waiting 
in  the  lf)l)l)y  for  tlie  word,  cocking  tlieir  pistols,  and  cry- 
ing "Fall  on."  'J'hat  night  he  put  forth  a  prochimatioii, 
directing  that  the  ports  should  be  stopped,  and  no  person 


42  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

should,    at    his    peril,    venture    to    harbor    the    accused 
meniliers. 

Hanipdon  and  his  friends  had  taken  refuge  in  Coleman 
Street.  The  city  of  London  was  indeed  the  fastness  of 
public  liberty,  and  was,  in  those  times,  a  place  of  at  least 
as  much  importance  as  Paris  during  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. The  city,  proj)crly  so  called,  now  consists  in  a 
great  measure  of  iinniense  warehouses  and  counting- 
houses,  which  are  frequented  by  traders  and  their  clerks 
during  the  day,  and  left  in  almost  total  solitude  during 
the  night.  It  was  then  closely  inhabited  by  three  hundred 
thousand  persons,  to  whom  it  was  not  merely  a  place  of 
business,  but  a  place  of  constant  residence.  This  great 
capital  had  as  complete  a  civil  and  military  organization 
as  if  it  has  been  an  independent  republic.  Each  citizen 
had  his  company;  and  the  companies,  which  now  seem  to 
exist  only  for  the  sake  of  epicures  and  of  antiquaries, 
were  then  formidable  brotherhoods,  the  members  of  which 
were  almost  as  closely  bound  together  as  the  members  of 
a  Highland  clan.  How  strong  these  artificial  ties  were, 
the  numerous  and  valuable  legacies  anciently  bequeathed 
by  citizens  to  their  corporations  abundantly  prove.  The 
municipal  offices  were  tilled  by  the  most  opulent  and  re- 
spectable merchants  of  the  kingdom.  The  pomp  of  the 
magistracy  of  the  capital  was  inferior  only  to  that  which 
surrounded  the  person  of  tiie  sovereign.  The  Londoners 
loved  their  city  with  that  patriotic  love  which  is  found 
only  in  small  communities,  like  those  of  ancient  Greece, 
or  like  those  which  arose  in  Italy  during  the  middle  ages. 
The  numbers,  the  intelligence,  the  wealth  of  the  citizens, 
the  domocratical  fon^i  of  their  local  government,  and  their 
vicinity  to  the  Court  and  to  the  Parliament,  made  them 
one  of  the  most  formidable  bodies  in  the  kingdom.  Even 
as  soldiers,  they  were  not  to  be  desjjised.  In  an  age  in 
which  war  is  a  profession,  there  is  something  ludicrous 
in  the  idea  of  battalions  composed  of  apprentices  and  shop- 
keepers, and  officered  l)y  aldermen.  But,  in  the  early  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  there  was  no  standing  army 
in  the  island ;  and  the  militia  of  the  metropolis  was  not 
inferior  in  training  to  the  militia  f)f  other  places.  A  city 
which  could  furnish  many  thousands  of  armed  men, 
abounding    in    natural    courage,   and   not   absolutely   un- 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  43 

tinctured  with  military  discipline,  was  a  formidable  auxil- 
iary in  times  of  internal  dissension.  On  several  occasions 
during:  the  civil  war,  the  train-bands  of  London  distin- 
guished themselves  highly ;  and  at  the  battle  of  Newbury, 
in  particular,  they  repelled  the  fiery  onset  of  Kupert,  and 
saved  the  army  of  the  Parliament  from  destruction. 

The  people  of  this  great  city  had  long  been  thoroughly 
devoted  to  the  national  cause.  Many  of  them  had  signed 
.  a  protestation  in  which  they  declared  their  resolution  to 
*  defend  the  privileges  of  Parliament.  Their  enthusiasm 
had  indeed  of  late  began  to  cool.  But  the  impeachment 
of  the  five  members,  and  the  insult  offered  to  the  House 
of  Oommons,  inflamed  them  to  fury.  Their  houses,  their 
purses,  their  pikes,  were  at  the  command  of  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  nation.  London  was  in  arms  all  night. 
The  next  day  the  shops  were  closed ;  the  streets  were  filled 
with  immense  crowds;  the  multitude  pressed  round  the 
King's  coach,  and  insulted  him  with  opprobrious  cries. 
The  House  of  Commons,  in  the  mean  time,  appoinfed  a 
committee  to  sit  in  the  City,  for  the  purpose  of  inquiring 
into  the  circumstances  of  the  late  outrage.  The  members 
of  the  committfo  were  welcomed  by  a  (Imputation  of  the 
common  coun<"il.  ^Icrchant  Taylors'  Hall,  Goldsmiths' 
Hall,  and  Grocers'  Hall,  were  fitted  up  for  their  sittings. 
A  guard  of  respectal)le  citizens,  duly  relieved  twice  a  day, 
was  posted  at  their  doors.  The  sheriffs  were  charged  to 
watch  over  the  safety  of  the  accused  members,  and  to 
escort  them  to  and  from  the  committee  with  every  mark 
of  honor. 

A  violent  and  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling,  both  in  the 
House  and  out  of  it,  was  tbf  eflec-t  of  the  late  proceedings 
of  the  King.  The  Opposition  regained  in  a  few  hours 
all  the  ascendency  whieh  it  lunl  lost.  The  Constitutional 
Royalists  were  filled  with  slianie  and  sorrow.  They  saw 
that  they  bad  been  cruelly  deceived  i)y  Charles.  They 
saw  that  they  were,  unjustly,  but  not  unreasonably,  sus- 
ppctf'd  by  the  nation.  Clarendfin  distinctly  says  that  they 
perfectly  detested  the  counsels  by  which  the  King  had 
been  guided,  and  were  so  much  diHj)leased  .ind  dejected 
at  the  unfair  manner  in  wliicli  lie  bad  tri'Mted  them  that 
they  were  inclined  to  retire  from  his  service.  During  the 
debate  on  the  breach  of  privilege,  they  preserved  a  mel- 


44  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

aiu'holy  silence.  To  this  clay  tlie  advocates  of  Charles 
take  care  to  say  as  little  as  they  can  about  his  visit  to 
the  House  of  Commons,  and.  when  they  cannot  avoid  men- 
tion of  it,  attribute  to  infatuation  an  act  which,  on  any 
other  supposition,  they  must  admit  to  have  been  a  fright- 
ful crime. 

The  Connnons,  in  a  few  days,  openly  defied  the  King, 
and  ordered  the  accused  members  to  attend  in  their  places 
at  Westminster  and  to  resume  their  parliamentary  duties. 
The  citizens  resolved  to  bring  back  the  champions  of  lib- 
erty in  triumph  before  the  w'indows  of  Whitehall.  Vast 
preparations  were  made  both  by  land  and  water  for  this 
great  festival. 

The  King  had  remained  in  his  palace,  humbled,  dis- 
mayed, and  bewildered,  "feeling,"  says  Clarendon,  "the 
trouble  and  agony  which  usually  attend  generous  and 
magnanimous  minds  ui)on  their  having  committed  errors;" 
feeling,  as  we  should  say,  the  despicable  repentance  which 
attends  the  man  who.  having  attempted  to  commit  a 
crime,  finds  that  he  has  only  committed  a  folly.  The 
populace  hooted  and  shouted  all  day  before  the  gates  of 
the  royal  residence.  The  tyrant  could  not  bear  to  see  the 
triumph  of  those  whom  he  had  destined  to  tlie  gallows  and 
the  quartering-block.  On  the  day  preceding  that  which 
was  fixed  for  their  return,  he  fled,  with  a  few  attendants, 
from  that  palace  which  he  was  never  to  see  again  till  he 
was  led  through  it  to  the  scaffold. 

On  the  eleventh  of  January,  the  Thames  was  covered 
with  boats,  and  its  shores  with  the  gazing  multitude. 
Armed  vessels,  decorated  with  streamers,  were  ranged  in 
two  lines  from  London  Bridge  to  Westminster  Hall.  The 
members  returned  u\un\  the  river  in  a  ship  manned  by 
sailors  who  had  volunteered  their  services.  The  train- 
bands of  the  city,  under  the  command  of  the  sheriffs, 
marched  along  the  Strand,  attended  by  a  vast  crowd  of 
spectators,  to  guard  the  avenues  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons; and  thus,  with  shouts  and  loud  discharges  of  ord- 
nance, the  accused  patriots  were  brought  back  by  the  peo- 
ple whom  they  had  served  and  for  whom  they  had  suffered. 
The  restored  members,  as  soon  as  they  had  entered  the 
House,  expressed,  in  the  warmest  terms,  their  gratitude 
to   the   citizens   of   London.     The   sheriffs    were   warmly 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  45 

thanked  by  the  Speaker  in  the  name  of  the  Commons; 
and  orders  were  given  that  a  guard  selectefl  from  the 
trainbands  of  the  city,  should  attend  daily  to  watch  over 
the  safety  of  the  Parliament. 

The  excitement  had  not  been  confined  to  London. 
When  intelligence  of  the  danger  to  which  Hampden  was 
exposed  reached  Buckinghamshire,  it  excited  the  alarm 
and  indignation  of  the  people.  Four  thousand  freeholders 
of  that  county,  each  of  them  wearing  in  his  hat  a  copy 
of  the  protestation  in  favor  of  the  privileges  of  Parlia- 
ment, rode  up  to  London  to  defend  the  person  of  their 
beloved  representative.  They  came  in  a  body  to  assure 
Parliament  of  their  full  resolution  to  defend  its  privileges. 
Their  petition  was  couched  in  the  strongest  terins.  "In 
respect,"  said  they,  "of  that  latter  attempt  upon  the  hon- 
orable House  of  Commons,  we  are  now  come  to  offer  our 
service  to  that  end,  and  resolved,  in  their  just  defense, 
to  live  and  die." 

A  great  struggle  was  dearly  at  hand.  Hampden  had 
returned  to  Westminster  much  changed.  His  influence 
had  hitherto  been  exerted  rather  to  restrain  than  to  ani- 
mate the  zeal  of  his  party.  Put  the  treachery,  the  con- 
tempt of  law,  the  thirst  for  blood,  which  the  King  had 
now  shown,  left  no  hope  of  a  peaceable  adjustment.  It 
was  clear  that  Charles  must  be  either  a  puppet  or  a  tyrant, 
that  no  obligation  of  law  or  honor  could  bind  him,  and 
that  the  only  way  to  make  him  harmless  was  to  make  him 
[)Owerless. 

The  attack  which  the  King  had  made  on  the  five  mem- 
bers was  not  merely  irregular  in  manner.  Even  if  the 
charges  had  been  preferred  legally,  if  the  Cirand  Jury  of 
Middlesex  had  found  a  trui^  bill,  if  the  accused  persons 
had  been  nrreste<l  under  a  proper  warrant  and  at  a  proper 
time  and  place,  there  would  still  have  been  in  the  proceed- 
ing enough  of  perfidy  and  injustice  to  vindicate  the  strong- 
est measures  which  the  Opposition  could  take.  To  im- 
peach Pym  and  Hamjxjen  was  to  impeach  the  House  of 
Commons.  It  was  notoriously  on  accoiint  of  what  they 
had  done  ns  members  of  that  House  that  they  were  se- 
lected ns  objects  of  vengeance;  and  in  wliat  they  had  done 
as  members  of  that  House  the  majority  had  concurred. 
Most  of  the  charges  brought  against  them  were  common 


46  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

between  them  and  the  Parliament.  They  were  accused, 
indeed,  and  it  may  with  reason,  of  encouraginji:  the  Scotch 
army  to  invade  England.  1ti  doing  this,  they  had  com- 
mitted what  was,  in  strictness  of  law,  a  high  offense,  the 
same  offense  which  Devonshire  and  Shrewsbury  committed 
in  1088.  But  the  King  liad  promised  pardon  and  oblivion 
to  those  who  had  been  the  i)rincipals  in  the  Scotch  insur- 
rection. Did  it  then  consist  with  his  honor  to  punish 
the  accessories?  He  had  bestowed  marks  of  his  favor 
on  the  leading  Covenanters.  lie  had  given  the  great  seal 
of  Scotland  to  one  chief  of  the  rebels,  a  marquisate  to 
another,  an  earldom  to  Leslie,  who  had  brought  the  Pres- 
byterian army  across  the  Tweed.  On  what  principle  was 
Hampden  to  be  attainted  for  advising  what  Leslie  was 
ennobled  for  doing?  In  a  court  of  law,  of  course,  no 
Englislnnan  could  plead  an  amnesty  granted  to  the  Scots. 
But,  though  not  an  illegal,  it  was  surely  an  inconsistent 
and  a  most  unkingly  course,  after  pardoning  and  promot- 
ing the  heads  of  the  rebellion  in  one  kingdom,  to  hang, 
draw,  and  quarter  their  accomplices  in  another. 

The  proceedings  of  the  King  against  the  five  members, 
or  rather  against  that  Parliament  which  had  concurred  in 
almost  all  the  acts  of  the  five  members,  was  the  cause  of 
the  civil  war.  It  was  plain  that  either  Charles  or  the 
House  of  Commons  must  be  stripped  of  all  real  power  in 
the  state.  The  best  course  which  the  Commons  could 
have  taken  would  perhaps  have  been  to  depose  the  King, 
as  their  ancestors  had  deposed  Edward  the  Second  and 
Richard  the  Second,  and  as  their  children  afterwards 
deposed  James.  Had  they  done  this,  had  they  placed  on 
the  throne  a  prinr-e  whose  character  and  whose  situation 
would  have  been  a  pledge  for  his  good  conduct,  they  might 
safely  have  left  to  that  prince  all  the  old  constitutional 
prerogatives  of  the  Crown,  the  command  of  the  armies,  of 
the  state,  the  power  of  making  peers,  the  power  of  appoint- 
ing ministers,  a  veto  on  bills  passed  by  the  two  Houses. 
Snr-h  a  prince,  reigning  by  their  choice,  would  have  been 
under  the  necessity  of  acting  in  conformity  with  their 
wishes.  But  the  public  mind  was  not  ripe  for  such  a  meas- 
urp.  There  was  no  Duke  of  Lancaster,  no  Prince  of 
Orange,  no  great  and  eminent  person,  near  in  blood  to  the 
throne,  yet  attached  to  the  cause  of  the  people.     Charles 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  47 

was  then  to  remain  King;  and  it  was  therefore  necessary 
that  he  should  be  king  only  in  name.  A  William  the 
Third,  or  a  George  the  First,  whose  title  to  the  crown  was 
identical  with  the  title  of  the  people  to  their  liberty,  might 
safely  be  trusted  with  extensive  powers.  But  new  freedom 
could  not  exist  in  safety  under  the  old  tyrant.  Since  he 
was  not  to  be  deprived  of  the  name  of  king,  the  only  course 
which  was  left  was  to  make  him  a  mere  trustee,  nominally 
seized  of  prerogatives  of  which  others  had  the  use,  a  Grand 
Lama,  a  Roi  Faineant,  a  phantom  resembling  those 
Dagoberts  and  Childeberts  who  wore  the  badges  of  royalty, 
while  Ebrion  and  Charles  Martel  held  the  real  sovereignty 
of  the  state. 

The  conditions  which  the  Parliament  propounded  were 
hard,  but  we  are  sure,  not  harder  than  those  which  even 
the  Tories,  in  the  Convention  of  1689,  would  have  imposed 
on  James,  if  it  had  been  resolved  that  James  should  con- 
tinue to  bo  king.  The  chief  condition  was  that  the  com- 
mand of  the  militia  and  the  conduct  of  the  war  in  Ireland 
should  be  left  to  the  Parliament.  On  this  point  was  that 
great  issue  joined,  whereof  the  two  parties  put  themselves 
on  God  and  on  the  sword. 

We  think,  not  only  that  the  Commons  were  justified  in 
demanding  for  themselves  the  power  to  dispose  of  the 
military  force,  but  that  it  would  have  been  absolute 
insanity  in  them  to  leave  that  force  at  the  disposal  of  the 
King.  From  the  very  beginning  of  his  reign,  it  had  evi- 
dently been  his  ol)ject  to  govern  by  an  army.  His  third 
Parliament  had  complained,  in  the  Petition  of  Right,  of 
his  ffnidncss  fr)r  niartial  law.  and  of  the  vexatious  manner 
in  which  he  billeted  his  soldier.^  on  the  people.  The  wish 
nearest  the  heart  of  Strafford  was,  as  his  letters  prove,  that 
tlir'  rovenue  might  be  brought  into  sur*h  a  state  as  would 
enable  the  King  to  keep  a  standing  military  estalilishment. 
In  lfi40,  Charlf's  had  supported  an  army  in  the  north- 
ern rotinties  by  lawless  exaetions.  In  1041  be  had  engaged 
in  an  intrigue,  the  object  of  whieh  was  to  brijig  tliat  army 
to  London  for  the  purpose  of  overawing  tbe  Parliament. 
Tlis  late  eonduf't  had  proved  that,  if  he  were  suffered  to 
retain  even  a  small  body-guard  of  his  own  creatures  near 
his  person,  the  Commons  would  be  in  danger  of  outrage, 
perhaps    massacre.      The    Houses    were    still    deliberating 


48  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

inuler  the  protection  of  the  militia  of  London.  Could  the 
coniinaiid  of  the  whole  armed  force  of  the  realm  have  hcen, 
under  these  circumstances,  safely  confided  to  the  King? 
Would  it  not  have  heen  frenzy  in  the  Parliament  to  raise 
and  pay  an  army  of  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  men  for 
the  Irish  war,  and  to  prive  to  Charles  the  absolute  control 
of  this  army,  and  the  power  of  selecting:,  promotiu}?,  and 
dismissing?  officers  at  his  pleasure?  Was  it  not  probable 
that  his  army  mipcht  become,  what  it  is  the  nature  of 
armies  to  become,  what  so  many  armies  formed  under 
much  more  favorable  circumstances  have  become,  what 
the  army  of  the  Roman  republic  became,  what  the  army  of 
the  French  republic  became,  an  instrument  of  despotism? 
Was  it  not  probable  that  the  soldiers  might  forget  that 
they  were  also  citizens,  and  might  be  ready  to  serve  their 
general  against  their  countrj' ?  Was  it  not  certain  that, 
on  the  very  first  day  on  which  Charles  could  venture  to 
revoke  his  concessions,  and  to  punish  his  opponents,  he 
would  establish  an  arbitrary  government,  and  exact  a 
bloody  revenge? 

Our  own  times  furnish  a  parallel  case.  Suppose  that  a 
revolution  should  take  place  in  Spain,  that  the  Constitu- 
tion of  Cadiz  should  be  reestablished,  that  the  Cortes 
should  meet  again,  that  the  Spanish  Prynnes  and  Burtons, 
who  are  now  wandering  in  rags  round  Leicester  Square, 
should  be  restored  to  their  country.  Ferdinand  the  Sev- 
enth would,  in  that  case,  of  course  repeat  all  the  oaths  and 
promises  which  he  made  in  1820,  and  broke  in  1823.  But 
woidd  it  not  be  madness  in  the  Cortes,  even  if  they  were 
to  leave  him  the  name  of  King,  to  leave  him  more  than 
the  name?  Would  not  all  Europe  scoff  at  them,  if  they 
were  to  permit  him  to  assemble  a  large  arm.y  for  an  ex- 
pedition to  America,  to  model  that  army  at  his  pleasure, 
to  y)ut  it  under  the  conunand  of  officers  chosen  by  himself? 
Should  we  not  say  that  every  member  of  the  Constitu- 
tional party  who  might  concur  in  such  a  measure  woiijd 
most  richly  deserve  the  fate  which  he  would  probably 
meet,  the  fate  of  Riego  and  of  the  Empecinado?  We  are 
not  disposed  to  pay  conijiliinents  to  Ferdinand;  nor  do  we 
conceive  that  we  pay  him  any  compliment,  when  we  say 
that,  of  all  sovereigns  in  history,  he  seems  to  us  most  to 
resemble,   in   some  very   important  points,   King  Charles 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  49 

the  First.  Like  Charles,  he  is  pious  after  a  certain  fash- 
ion; like  Charles,  he  has  made  large  concessions  to  his 
people  after  a  certain  fashion.  It  is  well  for  him  that  he 
has  had  to  deal  with  men  who  hore  very  little  resemblance 
to  the  English  Puritans. 

The  Commons  would  have  the  power  of  the  sword ;  the 
King  would  not  part  with  it ;  and  nothing  remained  but 
to  try  the  chances  of  war.  Charles  still  had  a  strong  party 
in  the  country.  His  august  office,  his  dignified  manners, 
his  solemn  protestations  that  he  would  for  the  time  to 
come  respect  the  liberties  of  his  subjects,  pity  for  fallen 
greatness,  fear  of  violent  innovation,  secured  to  him  many 
adherents.  He  had  with  him  the  Church,  the  Universities, 
a  majority  of  the  nobles  and  of  the  old  landed  gentry.  The 
austerity  of  the  Puritan  manners  drove  most  of  the  gay 
and  dissolute  youth  of  that  age  to  the  royal  standard. 
Many  good,  brave,  and  moderate  men,  who  disliked  his 
former  conduct,  and  who  entertained  doubts  touching  his 
present  sincerity,  espoused  his  cause  unwillingly  and  with 
many  painful  misgivings,  because,  though  they  dreaded 
his  tyranny  much,  they  dreaded  democratic  violence  more. 

On  the  other  side  was  the  great  body  of  the  middle 
orders  of  England,  the  mcrclumts,  the  shopkeepers,  the 
yeomanry,  headed  by  a  very  large  and  formidable  minority 
of  the  peerage  and  of  the  landed  gentry.  The  Earl  of 
Essex,  a  man  of  respcctal)lt'  abilities  and  of  some  military 
experience,  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  parlia- 
mentary army. 

Ham{)d('n  si)ared  neither  his  fortune  nor  his  person  in 
the  cause.  He  subscribed  two  thousand  pounds  to  the 
j)nblic  service.  He  took  a  coloncrs  commission  in  the 
army,  and  went  into  liuckiiigbairisbin'.  to  raise  a  regiment 
of  infantrj'.  His  neighbors  eagerly  enlisted  xnider  his 
coinriiaiid.  His  incn  wen-  known  by  their  green  uniform, 
and  by  their  standard,  wliidi  bore  on  one  side  the  watch- 
word of  tlie  I'arliament,  "Ood  with  us,"  and  on  the  other 
the  device  of  Hampden,  "Vestigia  nulla  retrorsnm."  This 
motto  well  described  tlie  lirn'  of  condnct  ubicb  he  pursued. 
No  member  of  hi.s  party  had  been  so  temperate,  while 
there  remained  a  hope  that  legal  ami  peaceable  measures 
might  Have  the  c(uinfry.  .Vo  member  of  his  l»arty  showed 
so  much  energy  and  vigor  when   it  became  necessary  to 


50  HISTOIUCAL  ESSAYS 

appeal  to  arms.  IIo  made  himself  thoroughly  master  of 
his  military  duty,  and  "porformed  it,"  to  use  the  words 
of  Clarendon,  "upon  all  occasions  most  punctually."  The 
regiment  wliich  he  had  raised  and  trained  was  considered 
as  one  of  tlic  hest  in  the  service  of  the  Parliament.  He 
exposed  his  person  in  every  action,  with  an  intrepidity 
which  made  liim  conspicuous  even  among  thousands  of 
brave  men.  "lie  was,"  says  Clarendon,  "of  a  personal 
courage  equal  to  his  best  parts ;  so  that  he  was  an  enemy 
not  to  be  wished  wherever  he  might  have  btvn  made  a 
friend,  and  as  much  to  be  appreliended  where  he  was  so, 
as  any  man  could  deserve  to  be."  Though  his  military 
career  was  short,  and  his  military  situation  subordinate, 
he  fully  i)roved  that  he  jmssessed  the  talents  of  a  great 
general,  as  well  as  those  of  a  great  statesman. 

We  shall  not  atteu'i't  to  give  a  history  of  the  war.  Lord 
Xugent's  account  of  the  military  operations  is  very  ani- 
mated and  striking.  Our  abstract  would  be  dull,  and 
probably  unintelligible.  There  was,  in  fact,  for  some  time 
no  great  and  conni'cted  system  of  operations  on  either 
side.  The  war  of  the  two  parties  was  like  the  war  of 
Arimanes  and  Oromasdes,*  neither  of  whom,  according  to 
the  Eastern  theologians,  has  any  e.\<'lusive  domain,  who 
are  equally  omnipresent,  who  equally  pervade  all  space, 
who  carry  on  their  eternal  strife  within  every  ])arti<'le  of 
matter.  There  was  a  petty  war  in  almost  every  county. 
A  town  furnished  troojis  to  the  Parliament  while  the 
manor-housr'  of  the  neighboring  peer  was  garrisoned  for 
the  King.  The  coiniiataiits  were  rarely  disposed  to  march 
far  from  their  own  homes.  It  was  reserved  for  Fairfa.x 
and  Cromwell  to  terminate  this  desultory  warfare,  by 
moving  one  overwhelming  force  s'.ccessively  against  all 
the  scattered  fragments  of  the  royal  party. 

It  is  a  remarkable  c-ircumstance  that  tlie  officers  who 
had  studied  tactics  in  what  were  considered  as  the  best 
schools,  under  Vere  in  the  Netherlands,  and  under  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus  in  Cermany,  displayed  far  less  skill  than 
those  commanders  who  had  been  bred  to  peaceful  employ- 
ments, and  who  never  saw  even  a  skirmi.sh  till  the  civil 
war   broke   out.     An    unlearned   person   might   hence   be 

•  Arimanes  and  Oromasdes  are  the  evil  and  the  pood  spirits  of 
the  dual  system  of  Zoroaster,  supposed  to  be  in  eternal  conflict. 


JOHN  HAMPDEN  51 

inclined  to  suspect  that  the  military  art  is  no  very  pro- 
found mystery,  that  its  principles  are  the  principles  of 
plain  good  sense,  and  that  a  quick  eye,  a  cool  head,  and 
a  stout  heart,  will  do  more  to  make  a  general  than  all  the 
diagrams  of  Jomini.  This,  however,  is  certain,  that 
Hampden  showed  himself  a  far  better  officer  than  Essex, 
and  Cromwell  than  Leslie. 

The  military  errors  of  Essex  were  probably  in  some 
degree  produced  by  political  timidity.  He  was  honestly, 
but  not  warmly,  attached  to  the  cause  of  the  Parliament ; 
and  next  to  a  great  defeat  he  dreaded  a  great  victory. 
Hampden,  on  the  other  hand,  was  for  vigorous  and  deci- 
sive measures.  When  he  drew  the  sword,  as  Clarendon 
has  well  said,  he  threw  away  the  scabbard.  He  had  shown 
that  he  knew  better  than  any  public  man  of  his  time  how 
to  value  and  how  to  practise  moderation.  But  he  knew 
that  the  essence  of  war  is  violence,  and  that  moderation  in 
war  is  imbecility.  On  several  occasions,  particularly  dur- 
ing the  operations  in  the  neighborhood  of  Brentford,  he 
remonstrated  earnestly  with  p]ssex.  Wherever  he  com- 
manded separately,  the  boldness  and  rapidity  of  his  move- 
ments presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the  sluggishness  of 
his  suj)erior. 

In  the  Parliament  he  possessed  boundless  influence.  His 
emi)loymonts  towards  the  close  of  1(!42  have  been  described 
by  Deiiliam  in  some  lines  which,  though  intended  to  be 
sarcastic,  convey  in  truth  the  highest  eulogy.  HaTni)den 
is  de8cril)ed  in  this  satire  as  perpetually  passing  and  re- 
passing between  the  military  stations  at  Windsor  and  the 
House  of  Commons  at  Westminster,  as  overawing  the 
general,  and  as  giving  law  to  the  Parliament  which  knew 
no  other  law.  It  was  at  this  time  that  he  organized  the 
celebrated  association  of  counties,  to  which  his  party  was 
principally  iiulobtefl  for  its  victory  over  the   King. 

in  tlie  early  i)art  of  ]('A''>,  the  shires  lying  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  London,  which  were  devoted  to  tlie  cause  of  the 
Parliament,  were  incessantly  annoyed  by  Rupert  an<l  his 
cavalry.  Essex  had  extended  his  lines  so  far  that  almost 
every  point  was  vulnerable.  The  young  prince  who, 
though  not  a  groat  general,  was  an  active  and  enterpris- 
ing i)artizan,  fretiueiitly  siirjirised  jiosts,  burnt  villages, 
swept    away    cattle,    and     was    agiiiii     at    Oxfonl     Ixfore 


52  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

a  force  sufficieut  to  encounter  him  could  be  assembled. 

The  languid  proceedings  of  Essex  were  loudly  con- 
demned by  tlic  troops.  All  the  ardent  and  daring  spirits 
in  the  parliauicntary  party  were  eager  to  have  Hampden 
at  their  head.  Had  his  life  been  prolonged,  there  is  every 
reason  to  believe  that  tlie  supreme  conmiand  would  have 
been  intrusted  to  him.  Jiut  it  was  decreed  that,  at  this 
conjuncture,  England  should  lose  the  only  man  who  united 
perfect  disinterestedness  to  eminent  talents,  the  only  man 
who,  being  capable  of  gaining  the  victory  for  her,  was 
incapable  of  abusing  that  victory  when  gained. 

In  the  evening  of  the  seventeenth  of  June,  Rupert 
darted  out  of  Oxford  witli  his  cavalry  on  a  predatory  ex- 
pedition. At  three  in  the  morning  of  the  following  day, 
he  attacked  and  dispersed  a  few  parliamentary  soldiers 
who  lay  at  Postcombe.  He  then  Hew  to  Chinnor,  burned 
the  village,  killed  or  took  all  the  troops  who  were  quartered 
there,  and  i)repare  to  hurry  back  with  his  booty  and  his 
prisoners  to  Oxford. 

Hampden  had,  on  the  preceding  day,  strongly  repre- 
sented to  Essex  the  danger  to  whieh  this  part  of  the  line 
was  exposed.  As  soon  as  he  received  intelligence  of 
Rupert's  incursion,  he  sent  off  a  horseman  with  a  message 
to  the  General.  The  cavaliers,  he  said,  could  return  only 
by  Chiselhamjjton  Bridge.  A  force  ought  to  be  instantly 
despatched  in  that  direction  for  the  purpose  of  intercept- 
ing them.  In  tlie  mean  time,  he  resolved  to  set  out  with 
all  the  cavalry  that  he  could  muster,  for  the  purpose  of 
impeding  the  march  of  the  enemy  till  Essex  could  take 
measures  for  cutting  off  their  retreat.  A  considerable 
body  of  horse  and  dragoons  volunteered  to  follow  him. 
He  was  not  their  commander.  He  did  not  even  belong  to 
their  branch  of  the  service.  But  "he  was,"  says  Lord 
Clarendon,  "second  to  none  but  the  General  himself  in 
the  observance  and  application  of  all  men."  On  the  field 
of  Chalgrovc  he  came  nj)  with  Rupert.  A  fierce  skirmish 
ensued.  In  the  first  charge,  Ilaniixlen  was  struck  in  the 
shoulder  by  two  bullets,  whieh  broke  the  bone,  and  lodged 
in  his  body.  The  troops  of  the  Parliament  lost  heart  and 
gave  way.  Rupert,  after  i)ursuing  them  for  a  short  time, 
hastened  to  cross  the  bridge,  and  made  his  retreat  un- 
molcstcrl  to  Oxford. 


JOHN  HA^CPDEN  53 

Hampden,  with  his  head  drooping:,  and  his  hands  lean- 
ing on  his  horse's  neck,  moved  feebly  out  of  the  battle. 
The  mansion  which  had  been  inhabited  by  his  father-in- 
law,  and  from  which  in  his  youth  he  had  carried  home  his 
bride  Elizabeth,  w^as  in  sight.  There  still  remains  an 
affecting  tradition  that  he  looked  for  a  moment  towards 
that  beloved  house,  and  made  an  effort  to  go  thither  to  die. 
But  the  enemy  lay  in  that  direction.  He  turned  his  horse 
towards  Thame,  where  he  arrived  almost  fainting  with 
agony.  The  surgeons  dressed  his  wounds.  But  there  was 
no  hope.  The  pain  which  he  suffered  was  most  excruciat- 
ing. But  he  endured  it  with  admirable  firmness  and 
resignation.  His  first  care  was  for  his  country.  He  wrote 
from  his  bed  several  letters  to  London  concerning  public 
affairs,  and  sent  a  last  pressing  message  to  the  headquar- 
ters, recommending  tliat  the  dispersed  forces  should  be 
concentrated.  Wlien  his  public  duties  were  performed,  he 
calmly  prei)arod  himself  to  die.  He  was  attended  by  a 
clergyman  of  the  Cluirch  of  England,  with  whom  he  had 
lived  in  habits  of  intimacy,  and  by  the  chaplain  of  the 
Buckinghamsbire  Oroen-coats,  Dr.  Spurton,  whom  Baxter 
describes  as  a  famous  and  excellent  divine. 

A  short  time  before  Hampden's  death  the  sacrament  was 
administered  to  him.  He  declared  that,  though  he  dis- 
liked the  governiiR'nt  of  the  Church  of  England,  he  yet 
agreed  with  that  church  as  to  all  essential  matters  of  doc- 
trine. His  intellect  remained  unclouded.  When  all  was 
nearly  ovt,  he  lay  murmuring  faint  prayers  for  himself, 
and  for  the  cause  in  wliich  he  died.  "Lord  Jesus,"  he 
exclaimed,  in  the  moment  of  the  last  agony,  "receive  my 
soul.     O    Lord,   save   my   country.      O   Lord,   be  merciful 

to  ."     In  that  broken   ejaculation   passed   away   his 

noble  and  fearless  si)irit. 

He  was  buriecl  in  the  i)arish  cliureli  of  Hamiideii.  His 
soldiers,  bareheaded,  with  reversed  arms  and  muffled  drums 
and  colors,  escorted  his  body  to  the  grave,  singing,  as 
they  marched,  that  lofty  and  melancholy  i)salm  in  which 
the  fragility  of  human  life  is  contrastetl  with  the  immut- 
ability of  Him  to  whom  a  thousand  years  are  as  yesterday 
when  it  is  passed,  and  as  a  watch  in  the  night. 

The  news  of  Hampden's  death  produced  as  great  a 
consternation  in  his  party,  according  to  Clarendon,  as  if 


64  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

their  whole  army  liad  been  out  off.  The  journals  of  the 
time  amply  prove  that  the  Pnrliiiment  and  all  its  friends 
were  filled  with  fjrief  and  dismay.  Lord  Nugent  has 
quoted  a  remarkable  passage  from  the  next  Weekly  In- 
telligencer. "The  loss  of  Colonel  Hampden  goeth  near 
the  heart  of  every  man  that  loves  the  good  of  his  king 
and  country,  and  makes  some  conceive  little  content  to 
be  at  the  army  now  that  he  is  gone.  The  memory  of  this 
deceased  colonel  is  such,  that  in  no  age  to  come  but  it  will 
more  and  mori'  be  had  in  honor  and  esteem;  a  man  so 
religious,  and  of  that  prudence,  judgment,  temper,  valor, 
and  integrity,  that  he  hath  left  few  his  like  behind." 

He  had  indeed  left  none  his  like  behind.  There  still 
remained,  indeed,  in  his  party,  many  acute  intellects, 
nuiny  eloquent  tongues,  many  brave  and  honest  hearts. 
There  still  remained  a  rugged  and  clownish  soldier,  half 
fanatic,  half  buflFoon,  whose  talents,  discerned  as  yet  only 
by  one  penetrating  eye,  were  equal  to  all  the  highest  duties 
of  the  soldier  and  the  prince.  But  in  Hami)den,  and  in 
Hampden  alone,  were  united  all  the  qualities  which,  at 
such  a  crisis,  were  necessary  to  save  the  state,  the  valor 
and  energy  of  Cromwell,  the  discenmu'nt  and  eloquence 
of  Vane,  the  humanity  and  moderation  of  Manchester,  the 
stern  integrity  of  Hale,  the  ardent  public  spirit  of  Sydney. 
Others  might  possess  the  (jualities  which  were  necessary 
to  save  the  popular  party  in  the  crisis  of  danger;  he  alone 
had  both  the  power  aJid  the  inclination  to  restrain  its 
excesses  in  the  hour  of  triumi)h.  Others  could  conquer; 
he  alone  could  reconcile.  A  heart  as  bold  as  his  brought 
up  the  cuirassiers  who  turned  the  tide  of  battle  on  Marston 
^foor.  As  skilful  an  eye  as  his  watched  the  Scotch  army 
descending  from  the  heights  over  Dunbar.  But  it  was 
when  to  the  sullen  tyranny  of  Laud  and  Charles  had  suc- 
ceeded the  fierce  conflict  of  sects  and  factions,  ambitious 
of  ascendency  and  burning  for  revenge,  it  was  when  the 
vices  and  ignorance  which  the  old  tyranny  had  generated 
threatened  the  new  freedom  with  destruction,  that  Eng- 
land missed  the  sobriety,  the  self-command,  the  perfect 
soundness  of  jtulgment,  the  perfect  rectitude  of  intention, 
to  which  the  history  of  revolutions  furnishes  no  parallel, 
or  furnishes  a  parallel  in  Washington  alone. 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM. 

(Jaxlary,  1834.) 

&.  History  of  the  Right  Honourable  William  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chat- 
ham, containing  his  l^peeches  in  Parliament,  a  considerable 
Portion  of  his  Correspondence  uhen  Hecretary  of  Utate,  upon 
French,  Spanish,  and  Ajncricau  Affairs,  never  before  pub- 
lished; and  an  Account  of  the  Principal  Events  and  Persons 

''  of  his  Time,  connected  irith  his  Life,  Sentiments,  and 
Administration.  Hy  the  Rev.  Francis  Tiiackebay,  A.M. 
2  vols.     4to.     London:   1827. 

Though  several  years  have  elapsed  since  the  publication 
of  this  work,  it  is  still,  we  believe,  a  new  publication  to 
most  of  our  readers.  Xur  are  we  surprised  at  tliis.  The 
book  is  large,  and  the  style  heaN-y.  The  inroruiatiou  which 
Mr.  Thackeray  has  obtained  from  the  State  Paper  Office 
is  new;  but  nuich  of  it  is  very  uninteresting.  The  rest  of 
his  narrative  is  very  little  better  than  GifFord's  or  Tom- 
line's  Life  of  the  second  Pitt,  and  tells  us  little  or  nothing 
that  may  not  be  found  (piite  as  well  told  in  tlie  Parlia- 
mentary History,  tlic  Annual  Kegister,  and  other  works 
equally  common. 

Almost  every  mechanical  employment,  it  is  said,  has  a 
tendency  to  injure  s(»iue  one  or  other  of  the  bodily  organs 
of  the  artizan.  Griinh'rs  of  cutlery  die  of  consumption; 
weavers  are  stunted  in  their  growth;  smiths  liecome  l)lear- 
eyed.  In  the  same  luiinner  almost  every  intellectual  em- 
ployment has  a  teudeney  to  prf)duce  some  intellectual 
malady.  liiograpliers.  translators,  editors,  all,  in  short, 
who  em|)loy  flu  iiiselves  in  illustrating  the  lives  or  the 
writings  of  others,  are  pceidiarly  exposed  to  the  Lues  Bos- 
vrUiana,  or  disj-ase  of  ailmiration.  Put  wc  scarcely  re- 
member ever  to  have  seen  a  patient  so  far  gone  in  this 
distemper  as  Mr.  Thackeray.  Tie  is  not  satisfied  with 
forcing  us  to  confess  that  Pitt  was  a  great  orator,  a  vigor- 
ous minister,  an   )ionor:il)le  and   high-spirited  gentleman. 


56  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

lie  will  have  it,  that  all  virtues  and  all  accomplishments 
met  in  his  hero.  In  spite  of  (uxls,  men,  and  columns,  Pitt 
must  be  a  poet,  a  poet  capable  of  producing  a  heroic  poem 
of  the  first  order;  and  we  are  assured  that  we  ought  to 
find  many  charms  in  such  lines  as  these: — 

"Midst  all  the  tumults  of  the  warring  spliere, 
^ly  ligiit-diargod  bark  may  liaply  <jli(lc; 
Some  gale  may  waft.  s*)iiu'  rumscious  tliouglit  shall  cheer, 
And  the  small  freight  unanxious  glide."  * 

Pitt  was  in  the  army  for  a  few  months  in  time  of  peace, 
Mr.  Thackerary  accordingly  insists  on  our  confessing  that, 
if  the  young  comet  had  remained  in  the  service,  he  would 
have  been  one  of  the  ablest  commanders  that  ever  lived. 
But  this  is  not  all.  Pitt,  it  seems,  was  not  merely  a  great 
poet  in  esse,  and  a  great  general  in  posse,  but  a  finished 
example  of  moral  excellence,  the  just  man  made  perfect. 
He  was  in  the  right  when  he  attempted  to  establish  an 
inquisition,  and  to  give  bounties  for  perjury,  in  order  to 
get  Walpole's  head.  He  was  in  the  right  when  he  declared 
Walpole  to  have  been  an  excellent  minister.  He  was  in 
the  right  when,  being  in  opixisition,  he  maintained  that 
no  peace  ought  to  be  made  with  Spain,  till  she  should 
formally  renounce  the  right  of  search.  He  was  in  the 
right  when,  being  in  office,  he  silently  acquiesced  in  a 
treaty  by  which  Spain  did  not  renounce  the  right  of 
search.  When  he  left  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  when  he 
coalesced  with  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  when  he  thundered 
against  subsidies,  when  he  lavished  subsidies  with  unex- 
ampled profusion,  when  he  execrated  the  Hanoverian 
connection,  when  he  declared  that  Hanover  ought  to  be 
as  dear  to  us  as  Hampshire,  he  was  still  invariably  speak- 
ing the  language  of  a  virtuous  and  enlightened  statesman. 

The  truth  is  that  there  scarcely  ever  lived  a  person  who 
had  so  little  claim  to  this  sort  of  praise  as  Pitt.  He  was 
undoubtedly  a  great  man.  But  his  was  not  a  complete 
and  ^vell-proportioned  greatness.  The  public  life  of 
Hampden  or  of  Somers  resembles  a  regular  drama,  w^hich 
can  be  criticized  as  a  whole,  and  every  scene  of  which  is 

•  The  quotation  Is  faithfully  marlo  from  Mr.  Thackeray.  Perhaps 
Pitt   wrote  guide   In   the   fourth   Uno.      (Author.) 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        57 

to  be  viewed  in  connection  with  the  main  action.  The 
public  life  of  Pitt,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  rude  though 
strikinoj  piece,  a  piece  abounding  in  incongruities,  a  piece 
without  any  unity  of  plan,  but  redeemed  by  some  noble 
passages,  the  eflFect  of  which  is  increased  by  the  tameness 
or  extravagance  of  what  precedes  and  of  what  follows. 
His  opinions  were  unfixed.  His  conduct  at  some  of  the 
most  important  conjunctures  of  his  life  was  evidently 
determined  by  pride  and  resentment.  He  had  one  fault, 
which  of  all  human  faults  is  most  rarely  found  in  com- 
pany with  true  greatness.  He  was  extremely  affected.  He 
was  an  almost  solitary  instance  of  a  man  of  real  genius, 
''and  of  a  brave,  lofty,  and  commanding  spirit,  without 
simplicity  of  character.  He  was  an  actor  in  the  Closet, 
an  actor  at  Council,  an  actor  in  Parliament;  and  even 
in  private  society  he  could  not  lay  aside  his  theatrical 
tones  and  attitudes.  We  know  that  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  of  his  partizans  often  complained  that  he 
oould  never  obtain  ailmittnnce  to  Lord  Chatham's  room 
till  every  thing  was  ready  for  the  representation,  till  the 
dresses  and  properties  were  all  correctly  disposed,  till  the 
light  was  thrown  witli  TJi'nibriindt-liko  effect  on  the  head 
of  the  illustrious  performer,  till  tlie  flannels  had  been  ar- 
ranged with  the  air  of  a  Grecian  drapery,  and  the  crutch 
placed  as  gracefully  as  that  of  Bclisarius  or  Lear. 

Yet,  with  all  his  faults  and  alTectations,  Pitt  had,  in  a 
very  extraordinary  degree,  many  of  the  elements  of  great- 
ness. He  had  sjjlcndid  talents,  strong  passions,  quick 
sensibility,  and  vebenieiit  enthusiasm  for  the  grand  and 
the  beautiful.  There  was  something  about  him  which 
ennnbled  tergiversation  itself.  He  often  went  wrong,  very 
wrong.     Put,  to  cpiote  the  language  of  Wadsworth, 

"TTc   still    rc(aiiie<l. 
'Mid   Hiicli   abasement,    wliat    lie   luid    received 
From  nature,  im   inti-iisi-  anil  ;.'li>\\in^'  mind." 

In  an  age  of  low  ainl  dirty  i)rostitution,  in  tlie  age  of 
Doddington  and  Sandys,  it  was  something  to  have  a  man 
who  might  y)erliaps.  under  some  strong  excitement,  have 
been  temptef]  to  ruin  liis  country,  but  wlio  never  would 
have  stooped  to  pilfer  from  her.  a  man  whose  errors  arose, 


58  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

not  from  a  sorilid  desire  of  gain,  but  from  a  fierce  thirst 
for  power,  for  fjl^^ry,  and  for  vengeance.  History  owes  to 
him  this  attestation,  that,  at  a  time  when  anything  short 
of  direct  embezzlement  of  the  public,  money  was  considered 
as  quite  fair  in  jjublic  men,  he  showed  the  most  scrupulous 
disinterestedness,  tliat,  at  a  time  when  it  seemed  to  be 
generally  taken  for  granted  that  Government  could  be 
upheld  only  by  the  basest  and  most  immoral  arts,  he  ap- 
pealed to  tiie  better  and  nobler  parts  of  human  nature, 
that  he  made  a  brave  and  splendid  attempt  to  do,  by  means 
of  public  opinion,  what  no  other  statesman  of  his  day 
thought  it  possible  to  do,  except  by  means  of  corruption, 
that  he  looked  for  support,  not,  like  the  Pelhams,  to  a 
strong  aristocratical  connection,  not,  like  Bute,  to  the 
personal  favor  of  the  sovereign,  but  to  the  middle  class  of 
Englishmen,  that  he  insiiired  that  class  with  a  firm  con- 
fidence in  his  integrity  and  al)ility,  that,  backed  by  them, 
he  forced  an  unwilling  court  and  an  unwilling  oligarchy 
to  admit  him  to  an  ample  share  of  power,  and  that  he 
used  his  power  in  such  a  manner  as  clearly  proved  him 
to  have  sought  it,  not  for  the  sake  of  profit  or  patronage, 
but  from  a  wish  to  establish  for  himself  a  great  and 
durable  reputation  by  means  of  eminent  services  rendered 
to  the  state. 

The  family  of  Pitt  was  wealthy  and  respectable.  His 
grandfather  was  Governor  of  ^Madras,  and  brought  back 
from  India  that  celebrated  diamond  which  the  Regent 
Orleans,  by  the  advice  of  Saint-Simon,  purchased  for  up- 
ward of  two  millions  of  livres,  and  which  is  still  consid- 
ered as  the  most  precious  of  the  erowni  jewels  of  France. 
Governor  Pitt  bought  estates  and  rotten  boroughs,  and 
sat  in  the  House  of  Commons  for  Old  Sarum.  His  son 
Robert  was  at  one  time  memlier  for  Old  Sarum,  and  at 
another  for  Oakhampton.  Robert  had  two  sons.  Thomas, 
the  elder,  inherited  the  estates  and  the  parliamentary 
interest  of  his  father.  The  second  was  the  celebrated 
William  Pitt. 

He  was  born  in  November,  1708.  About  the  early  part 
of  his  life  little  more  is  known  than  that  he  was  educated 
at  Eton,  and  that  at  seventeen  he  was  entered  at  Trinity 
College,  Oxford.  During  the  second  year  of  his  residence 
at  the  University,  George  the  First  died;  and  the  event 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        59 

was,  after  the  fashion  of  that  generation,  celebrated  by 
the  Oxonians  in  many  very  middling  copies  of  verses.  On 
this  occasion  Pitt  published  some  Latin  lines,  which  Mr. 
Thackeray  has  preserved.  They  prove  that  the  young 
student  had  but  a  very  limited  knowledge  even  of  the 
mechanical  part  of  his  art.  All  true  Etonians  will  hear 
with  concern  that  their  illustrious  school-fellow  is  guilty 
of  making  the  first  syllable  in  lahentl  short.*  The  matter 
of  the  poem  is  as  worthless  as  that  of  any  college  exercise 
that  was  ever  written  before  or  since.  There  is,  of  course, 
much  about  Mars,  Themis,  Neptune,  and  Cocytus.  The 
Pluses  are  earnestly  entreated  to  weep  over  the  urn  of 
Gspsar;  for  Capsar,  says  the  Poet,  loved  the  Muses;  Ca>sar, 
who  could  not  read  a  line  of  Pope,  and  who  loved  nothing 
but  punch  and  fat  women. 

Pitt  had  been,  from  his  school-days,  cruelly  tormented 
by  the  gout,  and  was  at  last  advised  to  travel  for  his 
health.  He  accordingly  left  Oxford  without  taking  a 
degree,  and  visited  France  and  Italy.  He  returned,  how- 
ever, without  having  received  much  benefit  from  his  ex- 
cursion, and  continued,  till  the  close  of  his  life,  to  suffer 
most  severely  from  his  constitutional  malady. 

His  father  was  now  dead,  and  had  left  very  little  to  the 
younger  children.  It  was  necessary  that  William  should 
choose  a  profession.  He  decided  for  the  army  and  a 
coronet's  commission  was  pnnnircd  for  him  in  the  ]51ues. 

But,  small  as  his  fortune  was,  his  family  had  both  the 
power  and  the  iiiclinatioii  to  scTve  him.  At  the  general 
election  of  17')4,  his  elder  l)roth('r  Thomas  was  chosen  both 
for  Old  Sarnin  aii<l  for  Oiikhamptf)n.  When  Parliament 
met  in  173;"),  Thomas  made  his  election  to  serve  for  Oak- 
barnjiton,  and  William  was  returned  for  Old  Saruni. 

Widfiole  liad  now  lieeii,  during  fourt(>en  years,  at  the 
head  of  affairs.  He  had  risen  to  ])ower  under  the  jnost 
favorable  eireiinistanees.  The  wliole  of  the  Whig  party, 
of  that  party  which  professed  peculiar  attachment  to  the 
principles  of  the  Revolution,  iind  wliieh  exclusively  en- 
joyed the  confidence  of  tlie  reigning  house,  had  been 
united  in  support  of  his  administration.  Happily  for  liiin, 
he  had  been   out   of  office  when    the   South-Seji    Act   was 

•  So  Mr.  Th.Tfkcrny  hnH  print. •(!  tli.'  i>n<Tn.  Hut  It  may  bo  char- 
itably  hopi-fl    thiit    rut    wrotf    hilxnili.       fAiithor.) 


60  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

passed;  and,  thougli  he  does  not  appear  to  have  foreseen 
all  the  consequences  of  that  measure,  he  had  strenuously 
opposed  it,  as  lie  oi)pos('d  all  the  measures,  jiood  and  bad, 
of  Sunderland's  administration.  When  the  South-Sea 
Company  were  voting:  dividends  of  fifty  per  cent,,  when  a 
hundred  pounds  of  their  stock  were  sellinp:  for  eleven 
hundred  pounds,  when  Tlireadneedle  Street  was  daily 
crowded  with  the  coaches  of  dukes  and  prelates,  when 
divines  and  iihilosojihers  turned  gamblers,  when  a  thou- 
sand kindred  bubbles  were  daily  blown  into  existence,  the 
periwig:  company,  and  the  Spanish-jackass  company,  and 
the  quieksilver-fixation-eompany,  Walpole's  calm  good 
sense  preserved  him  from  the  general  infatuation.  He 
condemned  the  prevailing  madness  in  public,  and  turned 
a  considerable  sum  by  taking  advantage  of  it  in  private. 
When  the  crash  came,  when  ten  thousand  families  were 
reduced  to  beggary  in  a  day,  when  the  people  in  the  frenzy 
of  their  rage  and  desjjair,  clamored,  not  only  against  the 
lower  agents  in  the  juggle,  but  against  the  Hanoverian 
favorites,  against  the  English  ministers,  against  the  King 
himself,  when  Parliament  met.  eager  for  confiscation  and 
blood,  when  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  proposed 
that  the  directors  should  be  treated  like  parricides  in 
ancient  Rome,  tied  up  in  sacks,  and  thrown  into  the 
Thames,  Walpole  was  the  man  on  whom  all  parties  turned 
their  eyes.  Four  years  before  he  had  been  driven  from 
power  by  the  intrigues  of  Sunderland  and  Stanhope,  and 
the  lead  in  the  House  of  Commons  had  been  intrusted  to 
Craggs  and  Aislabie.  Stanhope  was  no  more.  Aislabie 
was  expelled  from  Parliament  on  account  of  his  disgrace- 
ful conduct  regarding  the  South-Sea  scheme.  Craggs  was 
saved  by  a  timely  death  from  a  similar  mark  of  infamy. 
A  large  minority  in  the  House  of  Commons  voted  for  a 
severe  censure  on  Sunderland,  who,  finding  it  impossible 
to  withstand  the  force  of  the  prevailing  sentiment,  retired 
from  office,  and  outlived  his  retirement  but  a  very  short 
time.  The  schism  which  had  divided  the  Whig  party  was 
now  completely  healed.  Walpole  had  no  opposition  to 
encounter  except  that  of  the  Tories;  and  the  Tories  were 
naturally  regarded  by  the  King  with  the  strongest  sus- 
picion and  dislike. 

For  a  time  business  went  on  with  a  smoothness  and  a 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM,        61 

despatch  such  as  had  not  been  known  since  the  days  of 
the  Tudors.  During  the  session  of  1724,  for  example, 
there  was  hardly  a  single  division  except  on  private  bills. 
It  is  not  impossible  that,  by  taking  the  course  which 
Pelham  afterwards  took,  by  admitting  into  the  Govern- 
ment all  the  rising  talents  and  ambition  of  the  Whig 
party,  and  by  making  room  here  and  there  for  a  Tory  not 
unfriendly  to  the  House  of  Brunswick,  Walpole  might 
have  averted  the  tremendous  conliict  in  which  he  passed 
the  latter  years  of  his  administration,  and  in  which  he 
was  at  length  vanquished.  The  Opposition  which  over- 
threw him  was  an  Opposition  created  by  his  own  policy, 
by  his  own  insatiable  love  of  power. 

In  the  very  act  of  forming  his  Ministry  he  turned  one 
of  the  ablest  and  most  attached  of  his  supporters  into  a 
deadly  enemy.  Pulteney  had  strong  public  and  private 
claims  to  a  high  situation  in  the  new  arrangement.  His 
fortune  was  immense.  His  private  character  was  re- 
spectable. He  was  already  a  distinguished  speaker.  He 
had  acquired  official  experience  in  an  important  post.  He 
had  been,  through  all  changes  of  fortune,  a  consistent 
Whig.  When  the  Whig  party  was  split  into  two  sections, 
Pulteney  had  resigned  a  valuable  place,  and  had  followed 
the  fortunes  of  Walpole.  Yet,  when  Walpole  returned 
to  power,  Pulteney  was  not  invited  to  take  office.  An 
;ingry  discussion  took  place  between  the  friends.  The 
Ministry  offfred  a  peerage.  It  was  iniiK)ssiblo  for  Pulteney 
not  to  discern  the  motive  of  such  an  offer.  lie  indignantly 
refused  to  accept  it.  For  some  time  he  continued  to  brood 
over  his  wrongs,  and  to  watdi  for  an  opportunity  of  re- 
venge. As  soon  as  a  favorable  conjuncture  arrived  ho 
joined  the  minority,  and  became  tho.  greatest  leader  of 
O|)position  that  the  House  f)f  C^oinmoiis  had  ever  seen. 

Of  all  the  members  of  the  Cabinet  Carteret  was  tlie 
most  eloquent  and  neeomj)lished.  His  talents  for  debate 
were  of  the  first  order;  his  kiK)wledge  of  foreign  affairs 
was  superior  to  that  of  any  living  statesman;  his  attach- 
ment to  the  Protestant  succession  was  urirjoubted.  But 
there  was  not  room  in  one  (Jovernment  for  him  and  Wal- 
pole. Carteret  retired,  and  was,  from  tliat  tiirie  forward, 
one  of  the  most  persevering  and  formidal)le  enemies  of  his 
old  colleague. 


62  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

''  If  there  was  any  man  with  whom  Walpole  could  have 
consented  to  make  a  partition  of  power,  that  man  was 
Lord  Townshend.  They  were  distant  kinsmen  by  birth, 
near  kinsmen  by  marriage.  They  had  been  friends  from 
childhood.  Tliey  had  been  scliool-fellows  at  Eton.  They 
were  country  neij^hbors  in  Norfolk.  Tbey  luul  been  in 
office  together  under  Godo]i)hin.  They  had  gone  into 
opposition  together  when  JIarley  rose  to  power.  They  had 
been  persecuted  by  tlie  same  House  of  Commons.  They 
had,  after  the  death  of  Anne,  been  recalled  together  to 
office.  They  had  again  been  driven  out  together  by  Sun- 
derland, and  had  again  come  back  togetlier  when  the  influ- 
ence of  Sunderland  had  declined.  Their  opinions  on 
public  affairs  almost  always  coincided.  They  were  both 
men  of  frank,  generous,  and  compassionate  natures.  Their 
intercourse  had  been  for  many  years  affectionate  and  cor- 
dial. Ihit  tlie  ties  of  blood,  of  marriage,  and  of  friendship, 
the  memory  of  mutual  services,  the  memory  of  common 
triumphs  and  common  disasters,  were  insufficient  to  re- 
strain that  aml)ition  which  dominated  over  all  the  virtues 
and  vices  of  Walpole.  lie  was  resolved,  to  use  his  own 
metaphor,  that  the  firm  of  the  house  should  be,  not 
Townshend  and  Walpole,  but  Walpole  and  Townshend. 
At  length  the  rivals  proceeded  to  personal  abuse  before 
a  large  company,  seized  each  other  by  the  collar,  and 
grasped  their  swords.  Tlie  women  squalled.  The  men 
parted  the  combatants.  By  friendly  intervention  the 
scandal  of  a  duel  between  cousins,  brothers-in-law,  old 
friends,  and  old  colleagues,  was  prevented.  But  the  dis- 
putants could  not  long  continue  to  act  together.  Towns- 
hend retired,  and,  with  rare  moderation  and  public  spirit, 
refused  to  take  any  part  in  j)olitics.  He  could  not,  he 
said,  trust  his  temper.  lie  feared  that  the  recollection 
of  his  private  wrongs  might  compel  him  to  follow  the 
example  of  Piilteney,  and  to  oppose  measures  which  he 
thought  generally  beneficial  to  the  country.  He  therefore 
never  visited  London  after  his  resignation,  but  passed  the 
closing  years  of  his  life  in  dignity  and  repose  among  his 
trees  and  pictures  at  Kainham. 

Next  went  Chesterfield.  He  too  was  a  Whig  and  a 
friend  of  the  Protestant  succession.  He  was  an  orator,  a 
courtier,  a  wit,  and  a  man  of  letters.    He  was  at  the  head 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        63 

of  to7i  in  days  when,  in  order  to  be  at  tlie  head  of  ton,  it 
was  not  sufficient  to  be  dull  and  supercilious.  It  was 
evident  that  he  submitted  impatiently  to  the  ascendancy 
of  Walpole.  He  murmured  against  the  Excise  Bill.  His 
brothers  voted  against  it  in  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
Minister  acted  with  characteristic  caution  and  character- 
istic energy;  caution  in  the  conduct  of  public  affairs; 
energy  where  his  own  supremacy  was  concerned.  He 
withdrew  his  Bill,  and  turned  out  all  his  hostile  or  waver- 
ing colleagues.  Chesterfield  was  stopped  on  the  great 
staircase  of  St.  James's,  and  summoned  to  deliver  up  the 
staff  which  he  bore  as  Lord  Steward  of  the  Household.  A 
cro-frd  of  noble  and  powerful  functionaries,  the  Dukes  of 
^[ontrose  and  Bolton,  Lord  Burlington,  Lord  Stair,  Lord 
robham.  Lord  Marchmont,  Lord  Clifton,  were  at  the  same 
time  dismissed  from  the  service  of  the  Crown. 

Not  long  after  these  events  the  Ojjposition  was  rein- 
forced by  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  a  man  vainglorious  indeed 
and  fickle,  but  bravo,  eloquent  and  popular.  It  was  in  a 
great  measure  owing  to  his  exertions  that  the  Act  of 
Settlement  had  been  peaceably  carried  into  effect  in  Eng- 
land immodiately  after  the  death  of  Anne,  and  that  the 
•lacoliite  rebellion  wliieh,  during  the  following  year,  broke 
out  in  Scotland,  had  been  suppressed.  He  too  carried  over 
to  the  minority  the  aid  of  bis  great  name,  his  talents,  and 
his  paramount  influence  in  his  native  country. 

In  each  of  these  cases  taken  separately,  a  skilful  de- 
fender of  Walpole  might  i)erhaj)s  make  out  a  case  for 
him.  But  wlien  we  t^ee  that  during  a  long  course  of  years 
all  the  footsteps  are  turned  the  same  way,  that  all  the 
most  eminent  of  thos(i  jtublic  men  who  agreed  with  the 
Minister  in  their  general  views  of  policy  left  him,  one 
after  another,  with  sore  and  irritated  minds,  we  find  it 
inij)OSHible  not  to  beli<'ve  that  the  real  exi)lariation  of  tbo 
phenomenon  is  to  be  found  in  the  words  of  his  son,  "Sir 
Robert  V/alpole  loved  power  so  much  that  ho  would  not 
endure  a  rival."  Hume  has  described  this  famous  minister 
with  great  felicity  in  one  short  sentence, — "moderate  in 
exercising  power,  not  cfiuitable  in  engrossing  it."  Kind- 
hearted,  jovial,  and  placable  as  Walpole  was,  he  was  yet 
a  man  with  wlir)m  no  jxTson  of  high  pretensions  and  high 
epirit  could  long  continue  to  act.     He  had,  therefore,  to 


64  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

stand  afjainst  an  Opposition  containing  all  the  most  ac- 
complished Btatosmcn  of  the  age,  with  no  better  support 
than  that  wliit-li  he  received  from  persons  like  his  brother 
Horace  or  Henry  I'elliam,  wliose  industrious  mediocrity 
gave  no  cause  for  jealousy,  or  from  clever  adventurers, 
whose  situation  and  cliaracter  diminished  the  dread  which 
their  talents  mij;ht  have  inspired.  To  this  last  class  be- 
loufred  Fox,  who  was  too  poor  to  live  without  office;  Sir 
William  Yon^e,  of  whom  Walpole  himself  said,  that  noth- 
ing but  such  parts  could  buoy  up  such  a  character,  and 
that  nothing  but  such  a  character  could  drag  down  such 
parts;  and  Winnin^ton.  whose  private  morals  lay,  justly 
or  unjustly,  under  iini)utations  of  the  worst  kind. 

The  discontented  Whigs  were,  not  perhaps  in  number, 
but  certaiidy  in  ability,  experience,  and  weight,  by  far 
the  most  imjxjrtant  part  of  the  Opposition.  The  Tories 
furni.shed  little  more  than  rows  of  ponderous  fox-hunters, 
fat  with  StaflFordshire  or  Devonshire  ale,  men  who  drank 
to  the  King  over  the  water,  and  believed  that  all  the 
fund-holders  were  Jews,  men  whose  religion  consisted  in 
hating  the  Dissenters,  and  whose  political  researches  had 
led  them  to  fear,  like  Siiuire  Western,  that  their  land 
might  be  sent  over  to  Hanover  to  be  put  in  the  sinking- 
fund.  The  eloquence  of  these  zealous  squires,  the  rem- 
nant of  the  once  formidable  October  Club,  seldom  went 
beyond  a  hearty  Aye  or  No.  Very  few  members  of  this 
party  had  distinguished  themselves  much  in  Parliament, 
or  could,  uiuler  any  circumstances,  have  been  called  to  fill 
any  high  office;  and  those  few  had  generally,  like  Sir 
William  Wyndham,  learned  in  the  company  of  their  new 
associates  the  doctrines  of  toleration  and  political  liberty, 
and  might  indeed  with  strict  propriety  be  called  Whigs. 

It  was  to  the  Wliigs  in  Oitjjosition,  the  patriots,  as  they 
were  called,  that  the  most*  distinguished  of  the  English 
youth  who  at  this  season  entered  into  public  life  attached 
themselves.  These  inexperienced  politicians  felt  all  the 
enthusiasm  which  the  name  of  liberty  naturally  excites 
in  young  and  ardent  minds.  They  conceived  that  the 
thcfiry  of  the  Tory  Opposition  and  the  practise  of  Wal- 
pole's  Oovernment  were  alike  inconsistent  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  liberty.  They  accordingly  repaired  to  the  stand- 
ard   whicli    Pulteney    had    set    up.     While    opposing   the 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        65 

Whig  minister,  they  professed  a  firm  adherence  to  the 
purest  doctrines  of  Whiggism.  He  was  the  schismatic; 
they  were  the  true  Catholics,  tlie  peculiar  people,  the  de- 
positaries of  the  orthodox  faith  of  Hampden  and  Russell, 
the  one  sect  which,  amidst  the  corruptions  generated  by 
time  and  by  the  long  possession  of  power,  had  preserved 
inviolate  the  principles  of  the  Revolution.  Of  the  young 
men  who  attached  themselves  to  this  portion  of  the  Oppo- 
sition the  most  distinguished  were  Lyttleton  and  Pitt. 

When  Pitt  entered  Parliament,  the  whole  political  world 
was  attentively  watching  the  progress  of  an  event  which 
soon  added  great  strength  to  the  Opposition,  and  particu- 
larly to  that  section  of  the  Opposition  in  which  the  young 
statesman  enrolled  himself.  The  Prince  of  Wales  was 
gradually  becoming  more  and  more  estranged  from  his 
father  and  his  father's  ministers,  and  more  and  more 
friendly  to  the  patriots. 

Xothing  is  more  natural  than  that,  in  a  monarchy  where 
a  constitutional  Opposition  exists,  the  heir-apparent  of 
tlie  throne  should  put  himself  at  the  head  of  that  Opposi- 
tion. He  is  impelled  to  such  a  course  by  every  feeling 
of  ambition  and  of  vanity.  He  cannot  be  more  than 
second  in  the  estimation  of  the  party  which  is  in.  He  is 
sure  to  be  the  first  member  of  the  party  which  is  out. 
The  highest  favor  which  the  existing  administration  can 
expect  from  him  is  that  he  will  not  discard  them.  But,  if 
he  joins  the  Opposition,  all  his  associates  expect  that  he 
will  promote  them;  and  the  feelings  which  men  entertain 
toward  one  from  whom  they  hope  to  obtain  great  advan- 
tages which  they  have  not  are  far  warmer  than  the  feelings 
with  wbich  they  regard  one  who,  at  the  very  utmost,  can 
"Illy  leave  them  in  possession  of  what  they  already  have. 
.\n  heir-a|)j)arent,  therefore,  who  wishes  to  enjoy,  in  the 
liighest  p«'rfection,  all  tbe  pleasure  that  can  be  derived  from 
eloquent  flattery  and  profound  respect  will  always  join 
those  who  are  struggling  to  force  themselves  into  power. 
Tills  is,  we  believe,  tbe  true  explanation  (t(  a  fact  wliich 
Lord  Oranville  attributed  to  some  natural  jieculiarity  in 
tli((  illustrious  House  of  I'runswick.  "'IMiIh  family,"  said 
1h!  at  Coiineil,  we  suppose  after  bis  daily  half-gallon  of 
Burgundy,  "always  has  quarreled,  an<l  always  will  quarrel, 
from  generation  to  generation."     He  sboiild  have  known 


66  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

something  of  the  matter;  for  lie  had  heert  a  favorite  with 
three  successive  gent'ratioiis  of  the  royal  house.  We  can- 
not quite  admit  his  explanation;  but  the  fact  is  indis- 
l)Utal)le.  Since  the  accession  of  George  the  First,  there 
have  been  four  Princes  of  Wales,  and  they  have  all  been 
alnjost  constantly  in  Opposition. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  motives  which  induced 
Prince  Frederick  to  join  the  party  opposed  to  Sir  Robert 
Walpole,  his  support  infused  into  many  members  of  that 
party  a  courage  and  an  energy  of  which  they  stood  greatly 
in  need.  Hitherto  it  had  been  impossible  for  the  discon- 
tented Whigs  not  to  feel  some  misgivings  when  they  found 
themselves  dividing,  night  after  night,  with  uncompromis- 
ing Jacobites  who  were  known  to  be  in  constant  communi- 
cation with  the  exiled  family,  or  with  Tories  who  had 
impeached  Somers,  who  had  murmured  against  Harley 
and  St.  John  as  too  remiss  in  the  cause  of  the  Church  and 
the  landed  interest,  and  who,  if  they  were  not  inclined 
to  attack  the  reigning  family,  yet  considered  the  introduc- 
tion of  that  family  as,  at  best,  only  the  less  of  two  great 
evils,  as  a  necessary  but  painful  and  humiliating  preserva- 
tive against  Popery.  The  ^linister  might  plausibly  say 
that  Pulteney  and  C'arteret,  in  the  hope  of  gratifying  their 
own  appetite  for  office  and  for  revenge,  did  not  scruple  to 
serve  the  purposes  of  a  faction  hostile  to  the  Protestant 
succession.  The  appearance  of  Frederick  at  the  head  of 
the  patriots  silenced  this  reproach.  The  leaders  of  the 
Opposition  might  now  boast  that  their  course  was  sanc- 
tioned by  a  person  as  deeply  interested  as  the  King  himself 
in  maintaining  the  Act  of  Settlement,  and  that,  instead 
of  serving  the  pur])oses  of  the  Tory  party,  they  had 
brought  that  party  over  to  the  side  of  Whiggism.  It  must 
•  indeed  be  admitted  that,  though  both  the  King  and  the 
Prince  behaved  in  a  nianiier  little  to  their  honor,  though 
the  father  acted  harshly,  the  son  disrespectfully,  and  both 
childishly,  the  royal  family  was  rather  strengthened  than 
weakened  by  the  disagreement  of  its  two  most  distin- 
guished members.  A  large  class  of  politicians,  who  had 
considered  themselves  as  placed  under  sentence  of  per- 
petual exclusion  from  office,  and  who,  in  their  despair,  had 
been  almost  ready  to  join  in  a  counter-revolution  as  the 
only  mode  of  removing  the  proscription  under  which  they 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EAEL  OF  CHATHAM         67 

lay,  now  saw  with  pleasure  an  easier  and  safer  road  to 
power  opening  before  them,  and  thought  it  far  better  to 
wait  till,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  the  Crown  should 
descend  to  the  heir  of  the  House  of  Brunswick,  than  to 
risk  their  lands  and  their  necks  in  a  rising  for  the  House 
of  Stuart.  The  situation  of  the  royal  family  resembled 
the  situation  of  those  Scotch  families  in  which  father  and 
son  took  opposite  sides  during  the  rebellion,  in  order  that, 
come  what  might,  the  estate  might  not  be  forfeited. 

In  April,  1736,  Frederick  was  married  to  the  Princess 
of  Saxe-Gotha,  with  whom  he  afterwards  lived  on  terms 
very  similar  to  those  on  which  his  father  had  lived  with 
Quee^  Caroline.  The  Prince  adored  his  wife,  and  thouglit 
her  in  mind  and  person  the  most  attractive  of  her  sex. 
But  he  thought  that  conjugal  fidelity  was  an  unprincely 
virtue;  and,  in  order  to  be  like  Henry  the  Fourth  and 
the  Regent  Orleans,  he  affected  a  libertinism  for  which  he 
had  no  taste,  and  frequently  ((uittcd  the  only  woman  whom 
he  loved  for  ugly  and  disagreeable  mistresses. 

The  address  which  the  House  of  Commons  presented  to 
the  King  on  the  occasion  of  the  Prince's  marriage  waa 
moved,  not  by  the  Minister,  but  by  Pultency,  the  leader 
of  the  Whigs  in  Opposition.  It  was  on  this  motion  that 
Pitt,  who  had  not  l)roken  silence  during  the  session  in 
which  he  took  his  seat,  addressed  the  House  for  the  first 
time.  "A  contemporary  historian,"  says  Mr.  Thackeray, 
"describes  Mr.  Pitt's  first  speech  as  superior  even  to  the 
models  of  ancient  elocpience.  According  to  Tindal,  it  was 
more  ornamented  than  the  spee<'hes  of  Demosthenes  and 
less  diffuse  than  those  of  Cicero."  This  unmeaning  phrase 
has  been  a  hundred  times  rpioted.  That  it  should  ever 
have  been  quoted,  exc-ept  to  be  laughed  at,  is  strange.  The 
vogue  which  it  has  obtained  may  serve  to  show  in  how 
slovr-nly  a  way  most  people  are  content  to  think.  Did 
Tinilal,  who  first  used  it,  or  Archdeacon  Coxe  and  Mr. 
Thackeray,  who  have  borrowed  it,  ever  in  their  lives  hear 
any  speaking  which  did  not  deserve  the  same  comi)limentl; 
Did  they  ever  bear  speaking  less  ornamented  than  tbat  of 
Demosthenes,  or  more  diffuse  than  that  of  CMcero?  Wo 
know  no  living  orator,  from  Lord  lirougbani  down  to  Mr. 
Hunt,  who  is  not  entitled  to  the  same  eidogy.  It  would 
be  no  very  flattering  compliment  to  a  man's  figure  to  say, 


68  IIISTORTOAL  ESSAYS 

that  he  was  taller  than  the  Polish  Count,  and  shorter  than 
Cuant  O'Brien,  fatter  tliaii  the  Anatomie  Vivante,  and 
more  slender  tlian  Daniel  I^aiuhert. 

Pitt's  speeeh,  as  it  is  reported  in  the  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine, eertainly  deserves  Tindal'a  compliment,  and  deserves 
no  other. 

It  is  just  as  empty  and  word.y  as  a  maiden  speech  on 
such  on  occasion  nii^lit  he  expected  to  he.  But  the  fluency 
and  the  personal  advantages  of  the  young  orator  instantly 
caught  the  ear  and  eye  of  his  audience.  He  was,  from 
the  day  of  his  first  appearance,  always  heard  with  atten- 
tion ;  and  exercise  soon  developed  the  great  powers  which 
he  possessed. 

In  our  time,  the  audience  of  a  niemher  of  Parliament 
is  the  nation.  The  three  or  four  hundred  persons  who  may 
be  present  while  a  speech  is  delivered  may  be  pleased  or 
disgusted  by  the  voice  and  action  of  the  orator;  but,  in 
the  reports  which  are  read  the  next  day  by  hundreds  of 
thousands,  the  difference  between  the  noblest  and  the 
meanest  figure,  between  tlie  richest  and  the  shrillest  tones, 
between  the  most  graceful  and  the  most  uncouth  gesture, 
altogether  vanishes.  A  hundred  years  ago,  scarcely  any 
report  of  what  passed  within  the  walls  of  the  House  of 
Commons  was  suffered  to  get  abroad.  In  those  times, 
therefore,  the  impression  which  a  speaker  might  make  on 
the  persons  who  actually  lieard  him  was  everything.  His 
fame  out  of  doors  depended  entirely  on  the  report  of  those 
who  were  within  the  doors.  In  the  Parliaments  of  that 
time,  therefore,  as  in  the  ancient  commonwealths,  those 
qualifications  which  enhance  the  immediate  effect  of  a 
speech,  were  far  more  important  ingredients  in  the  com- 
position of  an  orator  than  at  present.  All  those  qualifica- 
tions Pitt  possessed  in  the  highest  degree.  On  the  stage, 
he  would  have  been  the  finest  Brutus  or  Coriolanus  ever 
seen.  Those  who  saw  him  in  his  decay,  when  his  health 
was  broken,  when  his  mind  was  untuned,  when  he  had 
been  removed  from  that  stormy  assembly  of  which  he 
thoroughly  knew  the  temper,  and  over  which  he  possessed 
unbounded  influence,  to  a  small,  a  torpid,  and  unfriendly 
audience,  say  that  his  speaking  was  then,  for  the  most 
part,  a  low.  monotonous  muttering,  audible  only  to  those 
who   sat   close   to   him,   that   when   violently   excited,  he 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        69 

sometimes  raised  his  voice  for  a  few  minutes,  but  that  it 
soon  sank  again  into  an  unintelligible  murmur.  Such 
was  the  Earl  of  Chatham ;  but  such  was  not  William  Pitt. 
His  figure,  when  he  first  appeared  in  Parliament,  was 
strikingly  graceful  and  commanding,  his  features  high 
and  noble,  his  eye  full  of  fire.  His  voice,  even  when  it 
sank  to  a  whisper,  was  heard  to  the  remotest  benches;  and 
when  he  strained  it  to  its  full  extent,  the  sound  rose  like 
the  swell  of  the  organ  of  a  great  cathedral,  shook  the  house 
with  its  peal,  and  was  heard  through  lobbies  and  down 
staircases,  to  the  Court  of  Requests  and  the  precincts  of 
Westminster  Hall.  He  cultivated  all  these  eminent  ad- 
vantages with  the  most  assiduous  care.  His  action  is 
described  by  a  very  malignant  observer  as  equal  to  that 
of  Garrick.  His  play  of  countenance  was  wonderful :  he 
frequently  disconcerted  a  hostile  orator  by  a  single  glance 
of  indignation  or  scorn.  Every  tone,  from  the  impassioned 
cry  to  the  thrilling  aside  was  perfectly  at  his  command. 
It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  the  pains  which  he  took 
to  improve  his  great  personal  advantages  had,  in  some 
respects,  a  prejudicial  operation,  and  tended  to  nourish  in 
him  that  passion  for  theatrical  effect  which,  as  we  have 
already  remarked,  was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  blem- 
ishes in  his  character. 

But  it  was  not  solely  or  principally  to  outward  accom- 
plishments that  Pitt  owed  the  vast  influence  which,  during 
nearly  thirty  years,  he  exercised  over  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. He  was  undoubtedly  a  great  orator;  and,  from 
the  descriptions  of  bis  contf  iui)oraries,  and  the  fragments 
of  his  speeches  which  still  remain,  it  is  not  difficvdt  to 
discover  the  nature  and  extent  of  his  oratorical  powers. 

He  was  no  speaker  of  set  sj^'eelu's.  His  few  preparecl 
discourses  were  complete  failures.  The  elaborate  panegyric 
which  he  proiiouiu-ed  on  General  Wolfe  was  considered  as 
tbe  very  worst  of  all  bis  iierforniaiices.  "No  man,"  says 
a  critic  who  had  often  lieard  him,  "ever  knew  so  little 
what  he  was  going  to  sa.v."  Indeed  his  facility  amounted 
to  a  vice.  He  was  not  the  master,  but  tin-  slave  of  his  own 
speech.  So  little  self-conmumd  had  be  when  once  he  felt 
the  inifiulse,  tluit  be  rlid  not  like  to  take  i)nrt  in  a  debate 
when  bis  mind  was  full  of  an  important  secret  of  state. 
"I  must  sit  still,"  he  once  said  to  Lord  Shelburne  on  such 


vo  nisTomcAL  essays 

nn  occasion;  "for,  when  once  I  am  up,  everything  that  is 
ill  my  mind  conies  out." 

Yet  he  was  not  a  great  debater.  Tliat  he  should  not 
have  been  so  when  first  he  entered  the  House  of  Commons 
is  not  strange.  Scarcely  any  person  has  ever  become  so 
without  long  practice  and  many  failures.  It  was  by  slow 
degrees,  as  Burke  said,  that  the  late  Mr.  Fox  became  the 
most  brilliant  and  powerful  debater  that  ever  lived.  Mr. 
Fox  himself  attributed  his  own  success  to  the  resolution 
which  he  formed  when  very  young,  of  speaking,  well  or  ill, 
at  least  once  everj''  night.  "During  five  whole  sessions," 
he  used  to  say,  "I  spoke  every  night  but  one ;  and  I  regret 
only  that  I  did  not  speak  on  that  night  too."  Indeed,  with 
the  exception  of  Mr.  Stanley,  w'hose  knowledge  of  the 
science  of  parliamentary  defense  resembles  an  instinct, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  name  any  eminent  debater  who 
has  not  made  himself  a  master  of  his  art  at  the  expense 
of  his  audience. 

But  as  this  art  is  one  which  even  the  ablest  men  have 
seldom  acquired  without  long  practice,  so  it  is  one  which 
men  of  respectable  abilities,  with  assiduous  and  intrepid 
practice,  seldom  fail  to  acquire.  It  is  singular  that  in 
such  an  art,  Pitt,  a  man  of  splendid  talents,  of  great 
fluency,  of  great  boldness,  a  man  whose  whole  life  was 
passed  in  parliamentary  conflict,  a  man  who,  during  sev- 
eral years,  was  the  leading  minister  of  the  Crown  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  should  never  have  attained  to  high 
excellence.  He  spoke  without  premeditation;  but  his 
speech  followed  the  course  of  his  own  thoughts  and  not 
the  course  of  the  previous  discussion.  He  could,  indeed, 
treasure  up  in  his  memory  some  detached  expression  of  a 
hostile  orator,  and  make  it  the  text  for  lively  ridicule  or 
solemn  reprehension.  Some  of  the  most  celebrated  bursts 
of  his  eloquence  were  called  forth  by  an  unguarded  word, 
a  laugh,  or  a  cheer.  But  tliis  was  the  only  sort  of  reply  in 
whifh  he  appears  to  have  excelled.  He  was  perhaps  the 
only  great  English  orator  who  did  not  think  it  any  ad- 
vantage to  have  the  last  word,  and  who  generally  spoke 
b.v  choice  before  his  most  formidable  opponents.  His 
merit  was  almost  entirely  rhetorical.  He  did  not  succeed 
either  in  exposition  or  in  refutation;  but  his  speeches 
abounded    with    lively    illustrations,    striking    apothegms, 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        71 

■well  told  anecdotes,  happy  allusions,  passionate  appeals. 
His  invective  and  sarcasm  were  terrific.  Perhaps  no  Eng- 
lish orator  was  ever  so  much  feared. 

But  that  which  gave  most  effect  to  his  declamation  was 
the  air  of  sincerity,  of  vehement  feeling,  of  moral  eleva- 
tion, which  belonged  to  all  that  he  said.  His  style  was 
not  always  in  the  purest  taste.  Several  contemporary 
judges  pronounced  it  too  florid.  Walpole,  in  the  midst  of 
the  rapturous  eulogy  which  he  pronounced  on  one  of 
Pitt's  greatest  orations,  owns  that  some  of  the  metaphors 
were  too  forced.  Some  of  Pitt's  quotations  and  classical 
stories  are  too  trite  for  a  clever  schoolboy.  But  these  were 
niceties  for  which  the  audience  cared  little.  The  enthusi- 
asm of  the  orator  infected  all  who  heard  him ;  his  ardor 
and  his  noble  bearing  put  fire  into  the  most  frigid  conceit, 
and  gave  dignity  to  the  most  puerile  allusion. 

His  powers  soon  began  to  give  annoyance  to  the  Gov- 
ernment; and  Walpole  determined  to  make  an  example 
of  the  patriotic  cornet.  Pitt  was  accordingly  dismissed 
from  the  service.  ^Ir.  Thackeray  saj's  that  the  Minister 
took  this  step,  because  he  plainly  saw  that  it  would  have 
been  vain  to  think  of  buying  over  so  honorable  and  dis- 
interested an  opponent.  We  do  not  dispute  Pitt's  in- 
tegrity; but  we  do  not  know  what  proof  he  had  given 
of  it  when  he  was  turned  out  of  the  army;  and  we  are 
sure  that  Walpole  was  nf)t  likely  to  give  credit  for  in- 
flexible honesty  to  a  young  adventurer  who  had  never 
had  an  opportunity  of  refusing  anything.  The  truth  is, 
that  it  was  not  Walpole's  [)ractice  to  buy  off  enemies.  ^Ir. 
Burke  truly  says,  in  the  Ajipcal  to  the  Old  Wbigs,  that 
Walpole  gained  very  few  over  from  the  Opposition.  In- 
deed that  great  minister  knew  his  business  far  too  well. 
He  knew  tbat  for  one  mouth,  which  is  stojtped  with  a 
place,  fifty  otber  mouths  will  be  instantly  opened.  He 
knew  that  it  would  liav<;  been  very  bad  policy  in  him  to 
give  the  world  to  understand  that  more  was  to  be  got  by 
thwarting  bis  measures  tban  by  supporting  tbem.  These 
maxims  are  as  rdd  as  the  origin  of  i)Mrliainentary  corru|)- 
tion  in  England.  I*epys  learned  tlieni,  as  he  tells  us,  from 
the  counselors  of  Charles  tbe  Second. 

Pitt  was  no  loser.  He  wiis  made  Cirf)om  of  tbe  T^ed- 
chainber  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  continued  to  declaim 


72  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

aecainst  the  ministers  with  iinahated  violence  and  with 
iiicreasinp-  ahihty.  The  question  of  maritime  right,  then 
agitated  hetween  Spain  and  England,  called  forth  all  his 
powers.  He  clamored  for  war  with  a  vehemence  which  it 
is  not  easy  to  reconcile  with  reason  or  humanity,  but  which 
appears  to  Mr.  Thackeray  worthy  of  the  highest  admira- 
tion. We  will  not  stop  to  argue  a  point  on  which  we  had 
long  thought  that  all  well  informed  people  were  agreed. 
We  could  easily  show,  we  think,  that,  if  any  respect  be 
due  to  interjiational  law,  if  right,  where  societies  of  men 
are  concerned,  be  anything  but  another  name  for  might, 
if  we  do  not  adopt  the  doctrine  of  the  Buccaneers,  which 
seems  to  be  also  the  doetrine  of  Mr.  Thackeray,  that 
treaties  mean  nothing  within  thirty  degrees  of  the  line, 
the  war  with  Spain  was  altogether  unjustifiable.  But  the 
truth  is,  that  the  promoters  of  that  war  have  saved  the 
historian  the  trouble  of  trying  them.  They  have  pleaded 
guilty.  "I  have  seen,"  says  Burke,  "and  with  some  care 
examined,  the  original  documents  concerning  certain  im- 
portant transactions  of  those  times.  They  perfectly  satis- 
fied me  of  the  extreme  injustice  of  that  war,  and  of  the 
falsehood  of  the  colors  which  Walpole,  to  his  ruin,  and 
guided  by  a  mistaken  poliey,  suffered  to  be  daubed  over 
that  measure.  Some  years  after,  it  was  my  fortune  to 
converse  with  many  of  th"  principal  actors  against  that 
minister,  and  with  those  who  principally  excited  that 
clamor.  None  of  them,  no  not  one,  did  in  the  least  defend 
the  measure,  or  attempt  to  justify  their  conduct.  They 
condemned  it  as  freely  as  they  would  have  done  in  com- 
menting upon  any  proceeding  in  history  in  which  they 
were  totally  unconcerned."  Pitt,  on  subseqvi(>nt  occasions, 
gave  ample  proof  that  he  was  one  of  those  tardy  penitents. 
But  his  conduct,  even  where  it  appeared  most  criminal  to 
himself,  appears  admirable  to  his  biographer. 

The  elections  of  1741  were  unfavorable  to  Walpole; 
and  after  a  long  and  obstinate  struggle  he  found  it 
necessary  to  resign.  The  Duke  of  Newcastle  and  Lord 
TIardwicke  opened  a  negotiation  with  the  leading  patriots, 
in  the  hope  of  forming  an  administration  on  a  Whig  basis. 
At  this  conjuncture,  Pitt  and  those  persons  who  were  most 
nearly  connected  with  him  acted  in  a  manner  very  little 
to  their  honor.    They  attempted  to  come  to  an  understand- 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        73 

ing  with  Walpole,  and  offered,  if  he  would  use  his  influ- 
ence with  the  King  in  their  favor,  to  screen  him  from 
prosecution.  They  even  went  so  far  as  to  engage  for  the 
concurrence  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  But  Walpole  knew 
that  the  assistance  of  the  Boys,  as  he  called  the  young- 
patriots,  would  avail  him  nothing  if  Pulteney  and  Car- 
teret should  prove  intractable,  and  would  be  superfluous 
if  the  great  leaders  of  the  Opposition  could  be  gained. 
He,  therefore,  declined  tho  proposal.  It  is  remarkable  that 
Mr.  Thackeray,  who  has  thought  it  worth  while  to  preserve 
Pitt's  bad  college  verses,  has  not  even  alluded  to  this 
story,  a  story  which  is  supported  by  strong  testimony,  and 
which  may  be  found  in  so  common  a  book  as  Coxe's  Life 
of  Walpole. 

The  new  arrangements  disappointed  almost  every  mem- 
ber of  the  Opposition,  and  none  more  than  Pitt.  He  was 
not  invited  to  become  a  placeman ;  and  he  therefore  stuck 
firmly  to  his  old  trade  of  ))atriot.  Fortunate  it  was  for 
him  that  he  did  so.  Had  he  taken  ofiicc  at  this  time,  he 
would  in  all  probability  have  shared  largely  in  the  un- 
popularity of  Pultciioy,  Sandys,  and  Carteret.  He  was 
now  the  fiercest  and  most  implacable  of  those  who  called 
for  vengeance  on  Walpole.  He  spoke  with  great  energy 
and  ability  in  favor  of  the  most  unjust  and  violent  propo- 
sitions which  the  enemies  of  the  falh'n  minister  could 
invent.  He  urge<l  the  House  of  Commons  to  appoint  a 
secret  tribunal  for  the  i)urposc  of  investigating  the  con- 
duct of  the  late  First  I.ord  of  tlie  Treasury.  This  was 
done.  Tlie  great  majority  of  the  inquisitors  were  notori- 
ously hr)sti]c  to  the  accused  statesman.  Yet  they  were 
compelled  to  own  that  tluy  conld  find  no  fnnlt  in  him. 
They  therefore  called  for  new  powers,  for  a  IhII  of  in- 
demnity to  witnesses,  or,  in  plain  wttrds,  for  a  bill  to 
reward  all  who  might  give  evidence,  true  or  false,  against 
the  Karl  of  Orf<.rd.  This  bill  Pitt  supr^rted,  Pitt,  who 
had  himself  offered  to  be  a  screen  between  Lord  Orford 
and  juiblic  justice.  These  an^  melanclifdy  facts.  Mr. 
Tliack<Tay  omits  them,  or  hurries  over  them  ns  fast  ns  he 
can;  and,  as  eulogy  is  his  business,  h<'  is  in  the  right  to  do 
so.  But,  though  there  are  many  i)jirts  of  the  life  of  Pitt 
which  it  is  more  agreeable  to  contemplafe,  we  know  none 
more  instructive.    What  must  have  Ix-cn  tho  general  state 


Y4  HISTOKITAL  ESSAYS 

of  political  morality,  when  a  young  man,  considered,  and 
justly  considered,  as  the  most  puhlie-spirited  and  spotless 
statesman  of  his  time,  eould  attemj)t  to  force  his  way  into 
office  by  means  so  disgraceful ! 

Tlie  Bill  of  Indemnity  was  rejected  by  the  Lords.  Wal- 
pole  withdrew  himself  quietly  from  the  public  eye;  and 
the  ample  space  which  he  had  left  vacant  was  soon  occu- 
pied by  Carteret.  Against  Carteret  Pitt  began  to  thunder 
with  as  mucli  zeal  as  he  had  ever  manifested  against  Sir 
Robert.  To  Carteret  he  transferred  most  of  the  hard 
names  wliicli  were  familiar  to  his  eloquence,  sole  minister, 
wicked  niiuister,  odious  minister,  execrable  minister.  The 
chief  topic  of  Pitt's  invective. was  the  favor  shown  to  the 
German  dominions  of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  He  at- 
tacked with  great  violence,  and  with  an  ability  which 
raised  him  to  the  very  first  rank  among  the  parliamentary 
speakers,  the  practice  of  paying  Hanoverian  troops  with 
English  monej'.  The  House  of  Commons  had  lately  lost 
some  of  its  most  distinguished  ornaments.  Walpole  and 
Pulteney  had  accepted  i)eerages;  Sir  William  Wyndham 
was  dead;  and  among  the  rising  men  none  could  be  con- 
sidered as,  on  the  whole,  a  match  for  Pitt. 

During  the  recess  of  1744,  the  old  Duchess  of  Marlbor- 
ough (lied.  She  carried  to  her  grave  the  reputation  of 
being  decidedly  the  best  hater  of  her  time.  Yet  her  love 
had  been  infinitely  more  destructive  than  her  hatred. 
More  than  thirty  years  before,  her  t(>mper  had  ruined  the 
party  to  which  she  belonged  and  the  husband  whom  she 
adored.  Time  had  made  her  neither  wiser  nor  kinder. 
Whoever  was  at  any  moment  great  and  prosperous  was 
the  object  of  her  fiercest  detestation.  She  had  hated  Wal- 
pole; she  now  hated  Carteret.  Pope,  long  before  her  death, 
predicted  the  fate  of  her  vast  property. 

"To  heirs  unknown  (Ifsccnds  tl»e  unguarded  store, 
f)r  wanders,  licaveii-direoted,  to  the  poor." 

Pitt  was  then  one  of  the  poor ;  and  to  him .  Heaven 
directed  a  portion  of  the  wealth  of  the  haughty  Dowager. 
She  left  him  a  legacy  of  ten  thousand  jjounds,  in  consid- 
eration of  "the  noble  defense  be  had  made  for  the  support 
of  the  laws  of  England,  and  to  prevent  the  ruin  of  his 
country." 


I 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        75 

The  will  was  made  in  August.  The  Duchess  died  in 
October.  In  November  Pitt  was  a  courtier.  The  Pelhams 
had  forced  the  King,  much  against  his  will,  to  part  with 
Lord  Carteret,  who  had  now  become  Earl  Granville.  They 
proceeded,  after  this  victor;s%  to  form  the  Government  on 
that  basis,  called  by  the  cant  name  of  "the  broad  bottom." 
Lyttelton  had  a  seat  at  the  Treasury,  and  several  other 
friends  of  Pitt  were  provided  for.  But  Pitt  himself  was, 
for  the  present,  forced  to  be  content  with  promises.  The 
King  resented  most  highly  some  expressions  which  the 
ardent  orator  had  used  in  the  debate  on  the  Hanoverian 
troops.  But  Newcastle  and  Pelham  expressed  the  strong- 
est confidence  that  time  and  their  exertions  would  soften 
the  royal  displeasure. 

Pitt,  on  his  part,  omitted  nothing  that  might  facilitate 
his  admission  to  office.  He  resigned  his  i)lace  in  the 
household  of  Prince  Frederick,  and,  when  Parliament  met, 
exerted  his  eloquence  in  support  of  the  Government.  The 
Pelhams  were  really  sincere  in  their  endeavors  to  remove 
the  strong  prejudices  which  had  taken  root  in  the  King's 
mind.  They  knew  that  Pitt  was  not  a  man  to  be  deceived 
with  ease  or  offended  with  impunity.  They  were  afraid 
that  they  should  not  be  long  al)]e  to  put  him  off  with 
promises.  Nor  was  it  their  interest  so  to  put  him  off. 
There  was  a  strong  tie  between  him  and  them.  He  was 
the  enemy  of  their  enemy.  The  brothers  hated  and 
dreaded  the  eloquent,  aspiring,  iiiid  imperious  Granville. 
They  had  traced  his  intrigues  in  many  quarters.  Th(\v 
knew  his  influence  over  tlie  royal  mind.  Tliey  knew  that, 
as  soon  as  a  favorable  opportunity  should  arrive,  he  would 
be  recalled  to  the  head  of  affairs.  They  resolved  to  bring 
things  to  a  crisis;  and  tlie  <iuestion  on  which  tliey  took 
issue  with  their  master  was,  wbetlu  r  Pitt  should  or  should 
not  be  aflmitted  to  rifficc?  Tb(y  cliose  their  time  with 
more  skill  than  generosity.  ]t  was  when  n-bellion  was 
actually  raging  in  Britain,  when  the  Pretender  was  master 
of  the  nf)rthern  extremity  of  tlie  island.  tb;i(  lliey  tendered 
their  resignations,  'i'he  King  found  liiiiiscjf  deserted,  in 
one  da.y,  by  the  whole  strength  of  that  jiarty  which  had 
placed  his  family  on  thr'  throne.  Lonl  Granville  tried 
to  form  a  government;  liut  it  soon  ai)[teared  that  the  par- 
liamentary interest  of  the  Pelhams  was  irresistible,  and 


V6  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

that  the  Kinpr's  favorite  statesmen  could  count  only  on 
al)out  thirty  Lords  and  eighty  nu-mbers  of  the  House  of 
Commons.  The  schoino  was  given  up.  Granville  went 
away  laughing.  Tlie  ministers  came  back  stronger  than 
ever;  and  the  King  was  now  no  longer  able  to  refuse  any- 
thing that  they  might  be  pleased  to  demand.  He  could 
only  mutter  that  it  was  very  hard  that  Newcastle,  who 
was  not  fit  to  be  elKMuberlain  to  the  most  insignificant 
prince  in  Cermany,  should  dictate  to  the  King  of  Eng- 
land. 

One  concession  the  ministers  graciously  made.  They 
agreed  that  Pitt  should  not  be  placed  in  a  situation  in 
which  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  to  have  frequent  in- 
terviews with  the  King.  Instead,  therefore,  of  making 
their  new  ally  Secretary-at-War  as  they  had  intended,  they 
appointed  him  Vice-Treasurer  of  Ireland,  and  in  a  few 
months  promoted  him  to  the  office  of  Paymaster  of  the 
Forces. 

This  was,  at  that  time,  one  of  the  most  lucrative  offices 
in  the  Government.  The  salary  was  but  a  small  part  of 
the  emolument  which  tlu^  Paymaster  derived  from  his 
place.  He  was  allowed  to  keep  a  large  sum,  which,  even  in 
time  of  peace,  was  seldom  less  than  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds,  constantly  in  his  hands;  and  the  interest  on  this 
sum  he  might  appropriate  to  his  own  use.  This  practice 
was  not  secret,  nor  was  it  considered  as  disreputable.  It 
was  the  practice  of  men  of  undoubted  honor,  both  before 
and  after  the  time  of  Pitt.  He,  however,  refused  to  ac- 
cept one  farthing  beyond  the  salary  which  the  law  had 
annexed  to  his  office.  It  had  been  iisual  for  foreign  princes 
who  received  the  pay  of  England  to  give  to  the  Paymaster 
of  the  Forces  a  small  percentage  on  the  subsidies.  These 
ignominious  vails  Pitt  resolutely  declined. 

Disinterestedness  of  this  kind  was,  in  his  days,  very 
rare.  His  conduct  surprised  and  amused  politicians.  It 
excited  the  warmest  adniiratif)n  throughout  the  body  of 
the  people.  In  spite  of  the  inconsistencies  of  which  Pitt 
had  been  guilty,  in  spite  of  the  strange  contrast  between 
his  violence  in  Opposition  and  his  tameness  in  office,  he 
still  pos.ses.sed  a  large  share  of  the  public  confidence.  The 
motives  which  may  lead  a  politician  to  change  his  connec- 
tions or  his  general  line  of  conduct  are  often  obscure; 


I 


WILLIAM  PITT.  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        77 

but  disinterestedness  in  pecuniary  matters  everybody  can 
understand.  Pitt  was  thenceforth  considered  as  a  man 
who  was  proof  to  all  sordid  temptations.  If  he  acted  ill, 
it  might  be  from  an  error  in  judgment ;  it  might  be  from 
resentment;  it  might  be  from  ambition.  But  poor  as  he 
was,  he  had  vindicated  himself  from  all  suspicion  of 
covetousness. 

Eight  quiet  years  followed,  eight  years  during  which 
the  minority,  which  had  been  feeble  ever  since  Lord  Gran- 
ville had  been  overthrown,  continued  to  dwindle  till  it 
became  almost  invisililo.  Peace  was  made  with  France 
and  Spain  in  174.S.  Prince  Frederick  died  in  1751;  and 
with  him  died  the  very  semblance  of  opposition.  All  the 
mosf  distinguished  survivors  of  the  party  which  had  sup- 
ported Walpole  and  of  the  party  whicli  had  opposed  him 
were  united  under  his  successor.  The  fiery  and  vehement 
spirit  of  Pitt  had  for  a  time  been  laid  to  rest.  He  silently 
acquiesced  in  that  very  system  of  continental  measures 
which  he  had  lately  condemned.  He  ceased  to  talk  dis- 
respectfully about  Haiiover.  He  did  not  object  to  the 
treaty  with  Spain,  though  that  treaty  left  us  exactly 
where  we  had  been  when  he  uttered  his  spirit-stirring- 
harangues  against  the  pacific  policy  of  Waljiolc.  Now 
and  then  glimpses  of  his  former  self  appeared;  but  they 
were  few  and  transient.  Pelham  knew  with  whom  he  had 
to  deal,  and  felt  that  an  ally,  so  little  used  to  control,  and 
so  capable  of  infiictiug  injury,  might  well  be  indulged  in 
nn  occasional  fit  of  waywardness. 

Two  men.  little,  if  at  all,  inferior  to  Pitt  in  powers  of 
mind,  held,  like  him,  subordinate  offices  in  the  government. 
One  of  these,  ^furray,  was  successively  Solicitor-General 
rnd  ;\ttorney-General.  This  distinguished  persoTi  far  sur- 
passed Pitt  in  correctness  of  taste,  in  j)ower  of  reasoning, 
in  depth  and  variety  of  knowledge.  His  parliamentar.v 
elocpience  never  blazed  into  sudden  ilashes  of  dazzling 
brilliancy';  but  its  clear.  i)lacid,  an<l  mellow  splendor  was 
never  for  an  instant  overclr»uded.  Intellectually  he  was, 
we  believe,  fully  equal  to  Pitt;  but  he  was  <lefieirnt  in 
the  moral  finalities  to  which  Pitt  owed  most  of  his  suc- 
cess. Mnrray  wanted  the  energy,  the  courage,  the  nll- 
grasfiintr  and  all-risking  ainliition.  wliich  make  men  great 
in  stirring  times.     His  heart  was  a  little  cold,  his  temper 


78  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

cautious  even  to  timidity,  his  inaniKTs  decorous  even  to 
formality.  He  never  exposed  his  fortunes  or  his  fame  to 
any  risk  which  he  could  avoid.  At  one  time  he  might, 
in  all  probability,  have  been  Prime  Minister.  But  the 
object  of  his  wishes  was  the  judicial  bench.  The  situation 
of  Chief  Justice  mifi;ht  not  be  so  splendid  as  that  of  First 
Lord  of  the  Treasury;  but  it  was  dif^niticd;  it  was  quiet; 
it  was  secure;  and  therefore  it  was  the  favorite  situation 
of  Murray. 

Fox,  the  father  of  the  p;reat  man  whose  mij?hty  efforts 
in  the  cause  of  peace,  of  truth,  and  of  liberty,  have  made 
that  name  innnortal,  was  Secretary-at-War.  He  was  a 
favorite  with  the  King,  with  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  and 
with  some  of  the  most  powerful  members  of  the  great 
Whig  connection.  His  parliamentary  talents  were  of  the 
highest  order.  As  a  speaker  he  was  in  almost  all  respects 
the  very  opposite  to  Pitt.  His  figure  was  ungraceful;  his 
face,  as  Reynolds  and  Nollekens  have  preserved  it  to  us, 
indicated  a  strong  understanding;  but  the  features  were 
coarse,  and  the  general  aspect  dark  and  lowering.  His 
maimer  was  awkward;  his  delivery  was  hesitating;  he  was 
often  at  a  stand  for  want  of  a  word;  but  as  a  debater,  as 
a  master  of  that  keen,  weighty,  manly  logic,  which  is 
suited  to  the  discussion  of  political  questions,  he  has 
perhaps  never  been  surpassed  except  by  his  son.  In  reply 
he  was  as  decidely  superior  to  Pitt  as  in  declamation  he 
was  Pitt's  inferior.  Intellectually  the  balance  was  nearly 
even  between  the  rivals.  But  here,  again,  the  moral  quali- 
ties of  Pitt  turned  the  scale.  Fox  had  undoubtedly  many 
virtues.  In  natural  disposition  as  well  as  in  talents,  he 
bore  a  great  resemblance  to  his  more  celebrated  son.  He 
had  the  same  sweetness  of  temper,  the  same  strong  pas- 
sions, the  same  openness,  boldness,  and  impetuosity,  the 
same  cordiality  toward  friends,  the  same  placability  to- 
wards enemies.  No  man  was  more  warmly  or  justly 
beloved  by  his  family  or  l)y  his  associates.  But  unhappily 
he  had  been  trained  in  a  bad  political  school,  in  a  school, 
the  doctrines  of  which  wore,  that  political  virtue  is  the 
mere  coquetry  of  political  prostitution,  that  every  patriot 
has  his  price,  that  Govornmcnt  can  be  carried  on  only 
by  means  of  corruption,  and  tliat  the  state  is  given  as  a 
prey  to  statesmen.    These  maxims  were  too  much  in  vogue 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        79 

throughout  the  lower  ranks  of  Walpole's  party,  and  were 
too  much  encouraged  by  Walpole  himself,  who,  from  con- 
tempt of  what  is  in  our  day  vulgarly  called  humhug,  often 
ran  extravagantly  and  offensively  into  the  opposite  ex- 
treme. The  loose  political  morality  of  Fox  presented  a 
remarkable  contrast  to  the  ostentatious  purity  of  Pitt. 
The  nation  distrusted  the  former,  and  ])laced  implicit  con- 
fidence in  the  latter.  Rut  almost  all  the  statesmen  of  the 
age  had  still  to  learn  that  the  confidence  of  the  nation  was 
worth  having.  While  things  went  on  quietly,  while  there 
was  no  opposition,  while  everything  was  given  by  the 
favor^of  a  small  ruling  junto,  Fox  had  a  decided  advan- 
tage over  Pitt;  but  when  dangerous  times  came,  when 
Europe  was  convulsed  with  war,  when  Parliament  was 
broken  up  into  factions,  when  the  public  mind  was 
violently  excited,  the  favorite  of  the  people  rose  to  supreme 
power,  while  his  rival  sank  into  insignificance. 

Early  in  the  year  1754  Henry  Pelham  died  unexpectedly. 
''Xow  I  shall  have  no  more  peace,"  exclaimed  the  old 
Ivirig,  when  he  heard  the  news.  He  was  in  the  right. 
Pelham  had  succeeded  in  bringing  together  and  keeping 
together  all  the  talents  of  the  kingdom.  Ry  his  death,  the 
highest  post  to  which  an  English  subject  can  aspire  was 
left  vacant;  and  at  the  same  moment,  the  influence  which 
liad  yoked  together  and  reined  in  so  many  turbulent  and 
nnibitious  spirits  was  witlidrawn. 

Within  a  week  after  Pelham's  death,  it  was  determinecl 
that  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  should  ho  placed  at  the  head 
"f  the  Treasury;  but  tlie  arrangement  was  still  far  from 
■  implete.  Wlio  was  to  be  tlie  leading  Minister  of  the 
Crown  in  the  House  of  Commons?  Was  the  office  to  be 
intrusted  to  a  man  of  eminent  talents?  And  would  not 
^lu-h  a  man  in  such  a  place  demand  and  ol)tain  a  larger 
share  of  power  and  patronage  than  Newcastle  would  be 
disposed  to  concede?  Was  a  mere  drudge  tf)  be  emj)loyed  ^ 
And  what  pmbaliility  was  there  that  a  mere  drudge  wouhl 
he  able  to  manage  a  large  aiul  stormy  assembly,  nbonnding 
with  able  and  expericneed  iTien  ? 

Pope  has  said  of  that  wretched  miser  Sir  John  Cutler, 

"Cutler  snw  tfTnints  hrcnk  nnrl  hoiisoH  full 
For  very  wnnt:   lie  could  not  txiilrl  a  wall." 


80  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Newcastle's  lovo  of  power  rosomltlcd  Cutler's  love  of  money. 
It  was  an  avarice  which  thwarted  itself,  a  i)eiiny-wise 
and  pound-foolish  eupidity.  An  immediate  outlay  was  so 
painful  to  him  that  he  would  not  venture  to  make  the 
most  desirahle  imi)rovement.  If  he  could  have  found  it 
in  his  heart  to  cede  at  once  a  portion  of  his  authority, 
he  mijzht  prohal)ly  have  ensured  the  continuance  of  what 
remained.  JUit  he  thouf^ht  it  better  to  construct  a  weak 
and  rotten  government,  which  tottered  at  the  smallest 
breath,  and  fell  in  the  first  storm,  than  to  pay  the  neces- 
sary i)rice  for  sound  and  duralile  materials.  lie  wished 
to  find  some  person  who  would  be  willing  to  accept  the 
lead  of  the  House  of  Commons  on  terms  similar  to  those 
on  which  Secretary  Craggs  had  acted  under  Sunderland, 
five-and-thirty  years  before.  Craggs  could  hardl.y  be  called 
a  minister.  He  was  a  mere  agent  for  the  Minister.  He 
was  not  trusted  with  the  higher  secrets  of  state,  but  obeyed 
implicitly  the  directions  of  his  superior,  and  was,  to  use 
Doddington's  expression,  merely  Lord  Sunderland's  man. 
But  times  were  changed.  Since  the  days  of  Sunderland, 
the  importance  of  the  House  of  Commons  had  been  con- 
stantl.v  on  the  iTicrease.  During  many  .years  the  person 
who  conducted  the  business  of  the  Government  in  that 
House  had  almost  always  been  Prime  Minister.  Under 
these  circumstances,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  aiiy 
person  wh<(  possessed  the  talents  necessary  for  the  situa- 
tion, would  stoop  to  accept  it  on  such  terms  as  Newcastle 
was  disposcnl  to  oflFer. 

Pitt  was  ill  at  Bath;  and,  had  he  been  well  and  in 
London,  neither  the  King  nor  Newcastle  would  have  been 
disposed  to  make  any  overtures  t(»  him.  The  cool  and 
war.v  Murray  had  set  his  heart  on  professional  objects. 
Negotiations  were  opened  with  Fox.  Newcastle  behaved 
like  himself,  that  is  to  sa.v,  childishl.v  and  basel.y.  The 
proposition  which  he  made  was,  that  Fox  should  be  Sec- 
retary of  State,  with  the  lead  of  the  House  of  Commons; 
that  the  disposal  of  the  secrct-service-money,  or,  in  plain 
words,  the  business  of  liuying  members  of  Parliament, 
should  be  left  to  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury;  but  that 
Fox  should  be  exactly  iiiforuicd  of  the  way  in  which  this 
fund   was  employed. 

To  these  conditions  Fox  assented.     But  the  next  day 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        81 

everything:  was  in  confusion.  Newcastle  had  changed  his 
mind.  The  conversation  which  took  place  between  Fox 
and  the  Duke  is  one  of  the  most  curious  in  English  his- 
tory. "My  brother,"  said  Xcweastle,  ''wlien  he  was  at  the 
Treasury,  never  told  anybody  what  he  did  with  the  seeret- 
service-money.  No  more  will  I."  The  answer  was  obvious. 
Pelham  had  been,  not  only  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury, 
but  also  manager  of  the  House  of  Commons;  and  it  was 
therefore  unnecessary  for  him  to  confide  to  any  other 
person  his  dealings  with  the  members  of  that  House. 
"But  how,"  said  Fox,  "can  I  lead  in  the  Commons  without 
information  on  this  head  ?  How  can  I  talk  to  gentlemen 
when  I  do  not  know  which  of  them  have  received  gratifi- 
catidns  and  which  have  not  ?  And  who,"  he  continued,  "is 
to  have  the  disposal  of  places?" — "I  myself,"  said  the  Duke. 
— "How  then  am  I  to  manage  the  House  of  Commons  ?" — 
"Oh,  let  the  members  of  the  House  of  Commons  come  to 
me."  Fox  then  mentioned  the  general  election  which  was 
approaching,  and  asked  how  the  ministerial  boroughs  were 
to  be  fillcfl  up.  "Do  iu)t  trouble  yourself,"  said  Newcastle; 
"that  is  all  settled."  This  was  too  much  for  human  nature 
to  bear.  Fox  refused  to  accept  the  Secretaryship  of  State  on 
such  terms;  and  the  Duke  confided  the  management  of  the 
House  of  Commons  to  a  dull,  harndcss  man,  whose  name 
is   almost  forgotten   in  our   time.   Sir  Thomas   Robinson. 

When  Pitt  returned  from  liath  he  ailected  great  modera- 
tion, though  his  hauglity  soul  was  boiling  with  resentment. 
He  rlid  not  complain  of  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been 
passed  by,  but  said  o])enly  that,  in  his  opinion.  Fox  was 
the  fittest  m:in  to  lead  the  House  of  Conunons.  The  rivals, 
reconciled  by  their  connnon  interest  and  their  connnon 
enmities,  concerted  a  plan  of  operations  for  the  next  ses- 
sion. "Sir  Thomas  Robinson  lead  \is!"  said  Pitt  to  Fox. 
"The  Duke  might  as  well  send  his  jack-boot  to  lead  us." 

The  elections  of  17r>4  were  favorable  to  the  administra- 
tion. Put  the  aspect  of  foreign  afTairs  was  tbreateiiinj^. 
In  India  the  English  and  the  French  bad  been  emplo.yed, 
ever  since  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle,  in  cutting  each 
f)tber's  throats.  They  had  lately  taken  to  the  same  practice 
in  America.  It  might  have  been  foreseen  that  stirring 
times  were  nt  hand,  times  wliieb  would  c.ill  for  aliilifies 
very  different  from  those  of  Xewcastle  and   Kobinsoti. 


82  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

In  November  the  Parliament  met;  and  before  the  end 
of  that  month  tlie  new  Si'cretary  of  State  liad  been  so  un- 
mercifully baited  by  the  Paymaster  of  the  Forces  and  the 
Seeretary-at-War  that  he  was  thoroughly  sick  of  his  situa- 
tion. Fox  attacked  him  with  great  force  and  acrimony. 
Pitt  affected  a  kind  of  contemptuous  tenderness  for  Sir 
Thomas,  and  directed  his  attacks  principally  against  New- 
castle. On  one  occasion,  he  asked  in  tones  of  thunder 
whether  Parliament  sat  only  to  register  the  edicts  of  one 
too-powerful  subject?  The  Duke  was  scared  out  of  his 
wits.  lie  was  afraid  to  dismiss  the  mutineers;  he  was 
afraid  to  promote  them;  l)ut  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  do  something.  Fox,  as  the  less  proud  and  intractable 
of  the  refractory  pair,  was  preferred.  A  seat  in  the  Cabi- 
net was  offered  to  him  on  condition  that  he  would  give 
efficient  sui)port  to  the  ministry  in  Parliament.  In  an 
evil  hour  for  his  fame  and  his  fortunes  he  accepted  the 
offer,  and  abandoned  his  connection  with  Pitt,  who  never 
forgave  this  desertion. 

Sir  Thomas,  assisted  by  Fox,  contrived  to  get  through 
the  business  of  the  year  without  much  trouble.  Pitt  was 
waiting  his  time.  The  negotiations  pending  between 
France  and  England  took  every  day  a  more  unfavorable 
aspect.  Toward  the  close  of  the  session  the  King  sent 
a  message  to  inform  the  House  of  Commons  that  he  had 
found  it  necessary  to  make  preparations  for  war.  The 
House  returned  an  address  of  thanks,  and  passed  a  vote 
of  credit.  During  the  recess,  the  old  animosity  of  both 
nations  was  inflamed  by  a  series  of  disastrous  events.  An 
Engli.sh  force  was  cut  off  in  America ;  and  several  French 
merchantmen  were  taken  in  the  West  Indian  Seas.  It  was 
plain  that  an  appeal  to  arms  was  at  hand. 

The  first  object  of  the  King  was  to  secure  Hanover; 
and  Newcastle  was  disposed  to  gratify  his  master. 
Treaties  were  concluded,  after  the  fashion  of  those  times, 
with  several  petty  Oerman  princes,  who  bound  themselves 
to  find  soldiers  if  England  would  find  money;  and,  as  it 
was  susper-ted  that  PVederick  the  Second  had  set  his  heart 
on  the  electoral  dominions  of  his  uncle,  Russia  was  hired 
to  keep  Prussia  in  awe. 

When  the  stipulations  of  these  treaties  were  made 
known,  there  arose  throughout  the  kingdom  a  murmur 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        83 

from  which  a  judicious  observer  might  easily  prognosti- 
cate the  approach  of  a  tempest.  Newcastle  encountered 
strong  opposition,  even  from  those  whom  he  had  always 
considered  as  his  tools.  Legge.  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  refused  to  sign  the  Treasury  warrants  which 
were  necessary  to  give  effect  to  the  treaties.  Those  persons 
who  were  supposed  to  possess  the  confidence  of  the  young 
Prince  of  Wales  and  of  his  mother  held  very  menacing 
language.  In  this  perplexity  Newcastle  sent  for  Pitt, 
hugged  him,  patted  him,  smirked  at  him,  wept  over  him, 
and  lisped  out  the  highest  compliments  and  the  most 
spjcndid  promises.  The  King,  who  had  hitherto  been  as 
sulky  as  possible,  would  be  civil  to  him  at  the  levee;  he 
should  be  brought  into  the  Cabinet;  he  should  be  con- 
sulted about  everj'thing;  if  he  would  only  be  so  good  as 
to  support  the  Hessian  subsidy  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
Pitt  coldly  declined  the  proffered  seat  in  the  Cabinet,  ex- 
pressed the  highest  love  and  reverence  for  the  King,  and 
said  that,  if  his  Majesty  felt  a  strong  personal  interest  in 
the  Hessian  treaty  he  would  so  far  deviate  from  the  line 
which  he  had  traced  out  for  himself  as  to  give  that  treaty 
his  support.  ''Well,  and  the  Russian  subsidy,"  said  New- 
castle. "No,"  said  Pitt,  "not  a  system  of  subsidies."  The 
Duke  summoned  Lord  Hardwicke  to  his  aid ;  but  Pitt  was 
inflexible.  ^Murray  would  do  nothing.  Robinson  could 
do  nothing.  It  was  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  Fox.  He 
became  Secretary  of  State,  with  the  full  authority  of  a 
loader  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  Sir  Thomas  was 
pensioned  off  on  the  Irish  establishment. 

In  November,  175.5,  the  Houses  met.  Public  expectation 
was  wound  up  to  the  height.  After  ten  quiet  years  there 
was  to  be  an  Opposition,  countenanced  by  the  heir-appar- 
ent of  the  throne,  and  headed  by  the  most  brilliant  orator 
of  the  age.  The  del)ate  on  the  address  was  long  remem- 
bered ns  one  of  the  greatest  parlininentnry  conflicts  of  that 
penerntion.  It  began  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  lasted 
till  five  the  next  morning.  It  was  on  this  night  that 
("Jerard  Hamilton  *  delivered  that  single  speeeh  from  which 
his  nieknarne  was  derived.     His  elo(|nence  threw  into  the 

•  Oornrfl  Unmllton  wnw  nlcknnmorl  "HltiKlP-Bpecch  Hamilton"  be- 
rauao  h«<  novcr  nrhli-vcd  r  Bcrond  oration  equal  to  the  maiden 
speech   here   referred  to. 


84  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

shade  every  orator  except  Pitt,  who  declaimed  against  the 
subsidies  for  an  hour  and  a  half  with  extraordinary  energy 
and  effect.  Those  powers  wliich  had  formerly  spread  terror 
through  the  majorities  of  Walpole  and  Carteret  were  now 
displayed  in  their  highest  perfection  before  an  audience 
long  unaccustomed  to  such  exhibitions.  One  fragment  of 
this  celebrated  oration  remains  in  a  state  of  tolerable 
preservation.  It  is  the  comparison  between  the  coalition 
of  Fox  and  ISTeweastle,  and  the  junction  of  the  Rhone  and 
the  Saone.  "At  Lyons,"  said  Pitt,  "I  was  taken  to  see 
the  place  where  the  two  rivers  meet,  the  one  gentle,  feeble, 
languid,  and,  though  languid,  yet  of  no  depth,  the  other 
a  boisterous  and  impetuous  torrent;  but  different  as  they 
are,  they  meet  at  last."  The  amendment  moved  by  the 
Opposition  was  rejected  by  a  great  majority;  and  Pitt  and 
Legge  were  immediately  dismissed  from  their  offices. 

During  several  months  the  contest  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons was  extremely  sharp.  Warm  debates  took  place  ou 
the  estimates,  debates  still  warmer  on  the  subsidiary 
treaties.  The  Government  succeeded  in  every  division; 
but  the  fame  of  Pitt's  eloquence,  and  the  influence  of  his 
lofty  and  determined  character,  continued  to  increase 
through  the  Session;  and  the  events  which  followed  the 
prorogation  made  it  utterly  impossible  for  any  other  per- 
son to  manage  the  Parliament  or  the  country. 

The  war  began  in  every  part  of  the  world  with  events 
disastrous  to  England,  and  even  more  shameful  than  dis- 
astrous. But  the  most  humiliating  of  these  events  was 
the  loss  of  Minorca.  The  Duke  of  Richelieu,  an  old  fop 
who  had  passed  his  life  from  sixteen  to  sixty  in  seducing 
women  for  whom  he  cared  not  one  straw,  landed  on  that 
island,  and  succeeded  in  reducing  it.  Admiral  Byng  was 
sent  from  Gibraltar  to  throw  succors  into  Port-Mahon; 
but  he  did  not  think  fit  to  engage  the  French  squadron, 
and  sailed  back  without  having  effected  his  purpose.  The 
people  were  inflamed  to  madness.  A  storm  broke  forth, 
which  appalled  even  tliose  who  remembered  the  days  of 
Excise  and  of  South-Sea.  The  shops  were  filled  with  labels 
and  caricatures.  The  walls  were  covered  with  placards. 
The  city  of  London  called  for  vengeance,  and  the  cry  was 
echoed  from  every  corner  of  the  kingdom.  Dorsetshire, 
Huntingdonshire,   Bedfordshire,   Buckinghamshire,   Som- 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        85 

ersetshire,  Lancashire,  Suffolk,  Shropshire,  Surrey,  sent 
up  strong  addresses  to  the  throne,  and  instructed  their 
representatives  to  vote  for  a  strict  inquiry  into  the  causes 
of  the  late  disasters.  In  the  great  towns  the  feeling  was 
as  strong  as  in  the  counties.  In  some  of  the  instructions 
it  was  even  recommended  that  the  supplies  should  be 
stopped. 

The  nation  was  in  a  state  of  angry  and  sullen  despon- 
dency, almost  unparalleled  in  history.  People  have,  in  all 
ages,  been  in  the  habit  of  talking  about  the  good  old  times 
of  their  ancestors,  and  the  degeneracy  of  their  contem- 
poraries. This  is  in  general  merely  a  cant.  But  in  1756 
it  was  something  more.  At  the  time  appeared  Brown's 
Estimate,  a  book  now  remembered  only  by  the  alhisions 
in  Cowper's  TaV)le  Talk  and  in  Burke's  Letters  on  a 
Regicide  Peace.  It  was  universally  read,  admired,  and 
believed.  The  author  fully  cdnviuced  his  readers  that 
they  were  a  race  of  cowards  and  scoundrels;  tliat  nothing 
could  save  them;  that  they  were  on  the  point  of  being 
enslaved  by  their  enemies,  and  that  th<\v  richly  deserved 
their  fate.  Such  were  the  speculations  to  wliich  ready 
credence  was  given  at  the  outset  of  the  most  glorious  war 
in  which  England  had  ever  been  engaged. 

Newcastle  now  began  to  tremble  for  his  place,  and  for 
the  only  thing  which  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  place, 
his  neck.  The  i)coplc  were  not  in  ji  mood  to  be  trifled 
with.  Their  cry  was  for  iilood.  F(tr  this  once  they  might 
be  contented  with  the  sacrifice  of  Tiyiig.  But  what  if  fresh 
disasters  should  take  place?  What  if  an  unfriendly  sov- 
ereign should  ascend  tlic  throne ?  What  if  a  hostile  House 
of  Commons  should  be  chosen? 

At  length,  in  OctolxT,  the  decisive  crisis  came.  The 
new  Secretary  of  State  bad  l>cen  long  sick  of  tlie  i)crfidy 
and  levity  of  the  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  and  begun 
to  fear  that  he  might  be  made  a  scapegoat  to  save  the 
old  intriguer  who,  imbecile  as  he  seemed,  never  wanted 
dexterity  where  danger  was  to  be  avoidecl.  Fox  threw  tip 
his  office.  Xewr-astlc  had  rccoiir^te  to  Murray;  but  \furray 
had  now  within  his  reach  the  favorite  obji'ct  of  his  arubi- 
tion.  The  situation  of  Chief-Justice  of  the  King's  lieuch 
was  vacant;  and  the  Attorney-CMMKTal  was  fully  resolved 
to  obtain   it,  or  to  go  into  ()i)pfisitioii.     Newcastb;  offered 


86  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

him  any  terms,  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster  for  life,  a  teller- 
sliip  of  the  Exchequer,  any  amount  of  pension,  two  thou- 
sand a  year,  six  thousand  a  year.  When  the  Ministers 
found  that  Murray's  mind  was  made  up,  they  pressed  for 
delay,  tlie  dchiy  of  a  session,  a  month,  a  week,  a  day. 
Would  he  only  make  his  appearance  once  more  in.  the 
House  of  Commons?  Would  he  only  speak  in  favor  of 
the  address?  He  was  inexorahlo,  and  peremjjtorily  said 
that  they  might  give  or  withhold  the  Chief-Justiceship, 
but  that  he  would  be  Attorney-General  no  longer. 

Newcastle  now  contrived  to  overcome  the  prejudices  of 
the  King,  and  overtures  were  made  to  Pitt,  through  Lord 
Hardwicke.  Pitt  knew  his  power,  and  showed  that  he 
knew  it.  He  demanded  as  an  indispensable  condition  that 
Newcastle  should  be  altogether  excluded  from  the  new 
arrangement. 

The  Duke  was  now  in  a  state  of  ludicrous  distress.  He 
ran  about  chattering  and  crying,  asking  advice  and  listen- 
ing to  none.  In  tlie  mean  time,  the  Session  drew  near. 
The  public  excitement  was  unabated.  Nol)ody  could  be 
found  to  face  Pitt  and  Fox  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
Newcastle's  heart  failed  him,  and  he  tendered  his  res- 
ignation. 

The  King  sent  for  Fox,  and  directed  him  to  form  the 
plan  of  an  administration  in  concert  with  Pitt.  But  Piti 
had  not  forgotten  old  injuries,  and  positively  refused  to 
act  with  Fox. 

The  King  now  ajjiilicd  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and 
this  mediator  succeeded  in  making  an  arrangement.  He 
consented  to  take  the  Treasury.  Pitt  became  Secretary 
of  State,  with  the  lead  of  the  House  of  Commons.  The 
Great  Seal  was  i)ut  into  commission.  Legge  returned  to 
the  Exchequer;  and  Lord  Temple,  whose  sister  Pitt  had 
lately  married,  was  jdaccd  at  the  head  of  the  Admiralt3\ 

It  was  clear  from  the  first  that  this  administration 
would  last  but  a  very  short  time.  It  lasted  not  quite  five 
months;  and,  during  those  five  months,  Pitt  and  Lord 
Temple  were  treate<|  with  rudeness  by  the  King,  and  found 
but  feeble  support  in  the  House  of  Commons.  It  is  a 
remarkable  fact,  that  the  Oi)j)osition  prevented  the  reelec- 
tion of  some  of  the  new  Ministers.  Pitt,  who  sat  for  one 
of  the  boroughs  which  were  in  the  Pelham  interest,  found 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        87 

some  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  seat  after  his  acceptance 
of  the  seals.  So  destitute  was  the  new  Government  of 
that  sort  of  influence  without  which  no  government  could 
then  be  durable.  One  of  the  arguments  most  frequently 
•urged  against  the  Reform  Bill  was  that,  under  a  system 
of  popular  representation,  men  whose  presence  in  the 
House  of  Commons  was  necessary  to  the  conducting  of 
public  business  might  often  find  it  impossible  to  find  seats. 
Should  this  inconvenience  ever  be  felt,  there  cannot  be 
the  slightest  difficulty  in  devising  and  applying  a  remedy. 
But  those  who  threatened  us  with  this  evil  ought  to  have 
reiueml)ered  that,  under  the  old  system,  a  great  man 
called  to  power  at  a  great  crisis  by  the  voice  of  the  whole 
nation  was  in  danger  of  being  excluded,  by  an  aristo- 
cratical  cabal,  from  that  House  of  which  he  was  the  most 
distinguished  ornament. 

The  most  important  evetit  of  this  short  administration 
was  the  trial  of  Byng.  On  that  subject  public  opinion 
is  still  divided.  We  think  the  punishment  of  the  Admiral 
altogether  unjust  and  absurd.  Treachery,  cowardice,  ig- 
norance amounting  to  what  lawyers  have  called  cfossa 
ignorantia,  are  fit  objects  of  severe  penal  inflictions.  But 
Byng  was  not  found  guilty  of  treachery,  of  cowardice,  or 
of  gross  ignorance  of  bis  ])rofes.sion.  He  dic^l  for  doing 
what  the  most  loyal  subject,  the  most  intrepid  warrior, 
tlie  most  experienced  seaman,  might  have  done.  He  died 
for  an  errf)r  in  judgrncnt.  an  error  such  as  the  greatest 
commanders,  Frederick,  Napoleon,  Wellington,  have  often 
committx'd,  and  have  often  acknowledged.  Such  errors 
are  not  y)roper  olg'ects  of  iinnisliineiit,  for  this  reason,  tliat 
the  punishing  of  such  errors  tends  not  to  ])revent  tliein, 
but  to  prrtdnce  them.  Tbc  dread  of  an  ignominious  death 
may  stinnilate  sluggisliiiess  to  exertion,  may  keej)  a  traitor 
to  his  standard,  may  jireveiit  a  coward  from  running 
away,  but  it  lias  no  tendency  to  bring  out  tliose  qualities 
wbich  enable  men  to  form  jiromjit  and  judicious  decisions 
in  great  emergencies.  The  best  marksman  may  be  ex- 
pected to  fail  when  the  apple  wbieb  is  to  be  his  mark 
is  set  on  his  child's  bead.  We  cannot  conceive  anything 
more  likely  to  deprive  an  offii-er  of  his  self-possession 
at  the  time  when  be  nu>st  needs  it  than  tlie  knowledge 
that,   if  the  judgment   of  liis   H>ii)eriors   shouM    nf)t   agree 


88  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Avith  his,  he  will  be  executed  with  every  circumstance  of 
shiuiie.  Queens,  it  has  often  been  said,  run  far  greater 
risk  in  childbed  than  private  women,  merely  because  their 
medical  attendants  are  more  anxious.  The  surgeon  who 
attendt'd  ^larie  Louise  was  altofjether  unners'cd  by  his 
emotion.  "Compose  yourself,"  said  Bonaparte;  "imagine 
that  you  are  assisting  a  poor  girl  in  the  Faubourg  St. 
Antoine."  This  was  surely  a  far  wiser  course  than  that 
of  the  Eastern  king  in  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertain- 
ments, who  proclaimed  that  the  physicians  who  failed  to 
cure  his  daughter  should  have  their  heads  ('hopped  oif. 
Bonaparte  knew  mankind  well ;  and,  as  he  acted  toward 
this  surgeon,  he  acted  toward  his  officers.  No  sovereign 
was  ever  so  indulgent  to  mere  errors  of  judgment;  and 
it  is  certain  that  no  sovereign  ever  had  in  his  service  so 
many  military  men  fit  for  the  highest  commands. 

Pitt  actcil  a  l)rave  and  honest  part  on  this  occasion.  He 
ventured  to  put  both  his  power  and  his  popularity  to  haz- 
ard, and  spoke  manfully  for  Byng,  both  in  Parliament 
and  in  the  royal  presence.  But  the  King  was  inexor- 
able. "The  House  of  Commons,  Sir,"  said  Pitt,  "seems 
inclined  to  mercy."  "Sir,"  answered  the  King,  "you  have 
taught  me  to  look  for  the  sense  of  my  peo[)le  in  other 
places  than  the  House  of  Commons."  The  saying  has 
wore  point  than  most  of  those  which  are  recorded  of 
George  the  Second,  and,  though  sarcastically  meant,  con- 
tains a  high  and  just  compliment  to  Pitt. 

The  King  disliked  Pitt,  but  absolutely  hated  Temple. 
The  new  Secretary  of  State,  his  Majesty  said,  had  never 
read  Vattel,*  and  was  tedious  and  pompous,  but  respectful. 
The  First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty  was  grossly  imy)ertinent. 
Walpole  tells  one  story,  which,  we  fear,  is  much  too  good 
to  be  true.  He  assures  us  that  Temple  entertained  his 
royal  master  with  an  claV)orate  parallel  between  Byng's 
Ixihavior  at  ^linorca,  and  his  Majesty's  behavior  at  Oude- 
narde,  in  which  the  advantage  was  all  on  the  side  of  the 
Admiral. 

This  state  of  things  could  not  \aA.  Early  in  April,  Pitt 
and  all  his  friends  were  turned  out,  and  Newcastle  was 

•  Emerlch  de  Vattel  was  a  Swiss  diplomat  and  publicist  of  the 
18th  century,  whose  "Law  of  .N'ations"  was  regarded  in  Europe  as 
high   authority. 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        89 

summoned  to  St.  James's.  But  the  public  discontent  was 
not  extinguished.  It  had  subsided  when  Pitt  was  called 
to  power.  But  it  still  glowed  under  the  embers ;  and  it 
now  burst  at  once  into  a  llame.  The  stocks  fell.  The 
Common  Council  met.  The  freedom  of  the  city  was  voted 
to  Pitt.  All  the  greatest  corporate  towns  followed  the 
example.  "For  some  weeks,"  says  Walpole,  "it  rained 
golrl  boxes." 

This  was  the  turning  point  of  Pitt's  life.  It  might 
have  been  expected  that  a  man  of  so  haughty  and  vehe- 
ment a  nature,  treated  so  ungraciously  by  the  Court,  and 
supported  so  enthusiastically  by  the  people,  would  have 
eagerly  taken  the  first  op])ortuiiity  of  showing  his  power 
and'gratifying  his  resentment;  and  an  opportunity  was 
not  wanting.  The  members  for  many  counties  and  large 
towns  had  been  instriu-tccl  to  vote  for  an  inquiry  into 
the  circumstances  which  had  proilueed  the  miscarriage  of 
the  preceding  year.  A  motion  for  inquiry  had  been  car- 
ried in  the  House  of  Commons,  without  opposition;  and, 
a  few  days  after  Pitt's  dismissal,  the  investigation  com- 
menced, Newcastle  and  his  colleagues  obtained  a  vote 
of  acquittal;  but  the  niiuority  were  so  strong  that  they 
could  not  venture  to  ask  for  a  vote  of  approbation,  as 
they  had  at  first  intended;  and  it  was  thought  by  some 
shrewd  observers  that,  if  Pitt  had  exerted  himself  to  the 
Utmost  of  his  power,  the  inciuiry  might  have  ended  in  a 
censure,  if  not  in  an  impeachment. 

Pitt  showed  on  this  occasion  a  moderation  and  self- 
govenmieiit  which  was  not  hal)itual  to  him.  He  had 
found  by  experience,  that  he  could  not  stand  alone.  His 
eloquence  and  his  po|)ularity  had  done  much,  very  much 
for  him.  Wit  bout  rank,  witliout  fortune,  without  borough 
interest,  hated  by  tlie  King,  hated  by  the  aristocracy,  ho 
was  a  person  of  tbe  first  imiiortance  in  tlie  state.  Ho 
had  been  sulFered  to  form  a  ministry,  and  to  pn»no»nico 
sentence  of  exclusion  on  all  his  rivals,  on  the  most  pow- 
erful nobleman  of  the  Whig  party,  on  the  ablest  debater 
in  till"  House  of  Conunons.  And  he  now  found  that  ho 
had  gone  ton  far.  The  Knglish  Constitution  was  not,  in- 
deed, without  a  juipular  elr-inent.  I'nt  other  elements 
generally  predominateij.  The  conHficnce  and  admiration 
of  the  natif>n  might  make  a  statesman  formidalile  at  the 


90  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

head  of  an  Opposition,  niipht  load  him  with  framed  and 
ghized  parchments  and  gold  boxes,  might  possibly  undei* 
very  peculiar  circumstances,  such  as  those  of  the  preced- 
ing year,  raise  him  for  a  time  to  power.  But,  constituted 
as  Parliament  then  was,  the  favorite  of  the  people  could 
not  depend  on  a  majority  in  the  people's  own  House. 
The  Duke  of  Newcastle,  however  contemptible  in  morals, 
manners,  and  understanding,  was  a  dangerous  enemy. 
His  rank,  his  wealth,  his  unrivaled  parliamentary  inter- 
est, would  alone  have  made  him  important.  But  this  was 
not  all.  The  Whig  aristocracy  regarded  him  as  their 
leader.  His  long  possession  of  power  had  given  him  a 
kind  of  prescriptive  right  to  possess  it  still.  The  House 
of  Commons  had  been  elected  when  he  was  at  the  head 
of  affairs.  The  members  for  the  ministerial  boroughs  had 
all  been  nominated  by  him.  Tlie  public  offices  swarmed 
with  his  creatures. 
""  Pitt  desired  power,  and  he  desired  it,  we  really  believe, 
from  high  and  generous  motives.  He  was,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word,  a  patriot.  He  had  none  of  that  philan- 
thropy which  the  great  French  writers  of  his  time  preached 
to  all  the  nations  of  Europe.  He  loved  England  as  an 
Athenian  loved  the  City  of  the  Violet  Crown,  as  a  Roman 
loved  the  City  of  the  Seven  Hills.  He  saw  his  country 
insulted  and  defeated.  He  saw  the  national  spirit  sink- 
ing. Yet  he  knew  what  the  resources  of  the  empire,  vig- 
orously emjdoyed,  could  effect;  and  he  felt  that  he  was 
the  man  to  employ  them  vigorously.  "My  Lord,"  he  said 
to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  "I  am  sure  that  I  can  save  this 
country,  ajul  that  nobody  else  can." 

Desiring,  then,  to  be  in  power,  and  feeling  that  his 
abilities  and  the  public  confidence  were  not  alone  suffi- 
cient to  keep  him  in  power  against  the  wishes  of  the  Court 
and  of  the  aristocracy,  he  began  to  think  of  a  coalition 
with  Newcastle. 

Newcastle  was  equally  disposed  to  a  reconciliation.  He, 
too,  had  profited  by  his  recent  experience.  He  had  found 
that  the  Court  and  the  aristocracy,  though  powerful,  were 
not  everything  in  the  state.  A  strong  oligarchical  con- 
nection, a  great  borough  interest,  ample  patronage,  and 
secret-service-money,  might,  in  quiet  times,  be  all  that  a 
Minister  needed  ;  but  it  was  unsafe  to  trust  wholly  to  such 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        91 

support  in  time  of  war,  of  discontent,  and  of  agitation. 
The  composition  of  the  House  of  Commons  was  not  wholly 
aristocratical ;  and,  whatever  be  the  composition  of  large 
deliberative  assemblies,  their  spirit  is  always  in  some  de- 
gree popular.  Where  there  are  free  debates,  eloquence 
must  have  admirers,  and  reason  must  make  converts. 
Where  there  is  a  free  press,  the  governors  must  live  in 
constant  awe  of  the  opinions  of  the  governed. 
>-  Thus  these  two  men,  so  unlike  in  character,  so  lately 
mortal  enemies,  were  necessarj'  to  each  other.  Newcastle 
had  fallen  in  November,  for  want  of  that  public  confidence 
which  Pitt  possessed,  and  of  that  parliamentary  support 
wnich  Pitt  was  bettor  qualified  than  any  man  of  his  time 
to  give.  Pitt  had  fallen  in  April,  for  want  of  that  species 
of  influence  which  Newcastle  had  passed  his  whole  life 
in  acquiring  and  hoarding.  Neither  of  them  had  power 
enough  to  support  himself.  Each  of  them  had  power 
enough  to  overturn  the  other.  Their  union  would  be  ir- 
resistible. Neither  the  King  nor  any  party  in  the  state 
would  be  able  to  stand  against  them. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Pitt  was  not  disposed  to 
proceed  to  extremities  against  his  predecessors  in  office. 
Something,  however,  was  due  to  consistency;  and  some- 
thing was  necessary  for  the  preservation  of  his  popularity. 
He  did  little;  but  that  litth^  he  did  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  produce  great  effect.  lie  came  down  to  the  Houhc  in 
all  the  pomp  of  gout,  his  legs  swathed  in  flannels,  his 
arm  dangling  in  a  sling.  He  kept  his  seat  through  sev- 
eral fatiguing  days,  in  spite  of  pain  and  languor.  He  ut- 
tered a  few  sharp  and  vehement  sentences;  but,  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  discussion,  his  language  was  uvuU 
usually  gentle. 

Wlien  the  inquir>'  had  termitiated  without  a  vote  either 
of  approbation  or  of  censure,  the  great  obstacle  to  a  coali- 
tion was  removed.  Many  o!)stacles,  however,  remained. 
The  King  was  still  rejoicing  in  his  deliverance  from  the 
proud  and  aspiring  ^Minister  who  had  been  forced  on  him 
by  the  cry  of  the  nation.  His  ^fajesty's  indignation  was 
excited  to  the  highest  point  when  it  ai)f)eiire(l  that  New- 
castle, who  had.  during  thirty  years,  l)een  loaded  with 
marks  of  roynl  favor,  and  who  had  bonnd  himself,  by  a 
solemn  promise,  never  to  coales<-e  witli  Pitt,  was  meditat- 


92  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

inpT  a  now  perfidy.  Of  all  tho  statesmen  of  that  age,  Fox 
had  the  larjiest  share  of  royal  favor.  A  coalition  between 
Fox  and  Newcastle  was  the  arraiiirenitMit  which  the  Kiiij? 
wished  to  bring  about.  But  the  Duke  was  too  cunning: 
to  fall  into  such  a  snare.  As  a  speaker  in  Parliament, 
Fox  mifjht  perhaps  he,  on  the  whole,  as  useful  to  an  ad- 
ministration as  his  {Treat  rival;  hut  he  was  one  of  the  most 
uni)<)i)ular  men  in  Enjrland.  Then,  again,  Newcastle  felt 
all  that  jealousy  of  Fox  which,  according  to  the  proverb, 
generally  exists  between  two  of  a  trade.  Fox  would  cer- 
tainly intermeddle  with  that  department  which  the  Duke 
was  most  desirous  to  reserve  entire  to  himself,  the  jobbing 
department.  Pitt,  on  the  other  hand,  was  quite  willing 
to  leave  the  drudgery  of  corruption  to  any  who  might  be 
inclined  to  undertake  it. 

During  eleven  weeks  England  remained  without  a  min- 
istry; and  in  the  mean  time  Parliament  was  sitting,  and 
a  war  was  raging.  The  prejudices  of  the  King,  the 
haughtiness  of  Pitt,  the  jealousy,  levity,  and  treachery 
of  Newcastle,  delayed  the  settlement.  Pitt  knew  the  Duke 
too  well  to  trust  him  without  security.  The  Duke  loved 
power  too  much  to  he  inclined  to  give  security.  While 
they  were  haggling,  the  King  was  in  vain  attempting  to 
produce  a  final  rupture  between  them,  or,  to  form  a  Gov- 
ernment without  them.  At  one  time  he  applied  to  Lord 
Waldcgrave,  an  honest  and  sensible  man,  but  unpracticed 
in  affairs.  Lord  Waldcgrave  had  the  courage  to  accept 
the  Treasur\',  but  soon  found  that  no  administration 
formed  by  him  had  the  smallest  chance  of  standing  a 
single  week. 

At  length  the  King's  pertinacity  yielded  to  the  necessity 
of  the  case.  After  exclaiming  with  great  bitterness,  and 
with  some  justice,  against  the  Whigs,  who  ought,  he  said, 
to  be  ashamed  to  talk  about  lilx'rty  while  they  sul)mitted 
to  be  the  footmen  of  the  Didic  of  Newcastle,  his  llaje«ty 
submitted.  The  influence  of  Leicester  House  prevailed 
on  Pitt  to  abate  a  little,  and  but  a  little,  of  his  high 
demands;  and  all  at  once,  out  of  the  chaos  in  which 
parties  had  for  some  time  been  rising,  falling,  meeting, 
separating,  arose  a  government  as  strong  at  home  as  that 
of  Pelham,  as  successful  abroad  as  that  of  Godolphin. 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM         93 

Newcastle  took  the  Trcivsury.  Pitt  was  Secretary  of 
State,  with  the  lead  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  with 
the  supreme  direction  of  the  war  and  of  foreign  affairs. 
Fox,  the  only  man  who  could  have  given  much  annoyance 
to  the  new  government,  was  silenced  with  the  office  of 
Paymaster,  which,  during  the  continuance  of  that  war, 
was  probably  the  most  lucrative  place  in  the  whole  Gov- 
ernment. He  was  poor,  and  the  situation  was  tempting; 
yet  it  cannot  but  seem  extraordinary  that  a  man  who  had 
played  a  first  part  in  politics,  and  whose  abilities  had 
been  found  not  unequal  to  that  part,  who  had  sat  in  the 
Cabinet,  who  had  led  the  House  of  Commons,  who  had 
been  twice  intrusted  by  the  King,  with  the  office  of  form- 
ing a  ministry,  who  was  regarded  as  the  rival  of  Pitt, 
and  who  at  one  time  seemed  likely  to  be  a  successful  rival, 
should  have  consented,  for  the  sake  of  emolument,  to  take 
a  subordinate  place,  and  to  give  silent  votes  for  all  the 
measures  of  a  government  to  the  deliberations  of  which  he 
was  not  summoned. 

The  first  jneasures  of  the  new  administration  were  char- 
acterized rather  by  vigor  than  hy  judgment.  Expeditions 
were  sent  against  different  parts  of  the  French  coast  with 
little  success.  The  small  island  of  Aix  was  taken,  lloche- 
fort  threatened,  a  few  ships  burned  in  the  harbor  of  St. 
Malocs,  and  a  few  guns  and  mortars  brought  home  as 
tr(Ji)hics  from  the  fortitiratinns  of  (;herbuurg.  ]>ut  soon 
conquests  of  a  very  different  kind  filled  the  kingdom  with 
pride  and  rejoicing.  A  succession  of  victories  undoubt- 
edly l)rilliant,  and.  as  it  was  tliougbt.  not  barren,  raised 
to  the  highest  point  the  f.nnc  (if  tlic  minister  to  whom 
the  condnct  of  tlie  war  hail  lieen  intrusted.  In  .ruly, 
1758,  Lo'iisliurg  fell.  'I'lie  whole  isliuid  of  dxpo  Breton 
war.  reduced.  The  fleet  to  wbieli  the  Court  of  Versailles 
liad  confined  the  (lefen^e  of  French  Anierica  was  destroyed. 
The  cjiptnred  standards  were  borne  in  triumph  from  Ken- 
sington Palace  to  tlu'  city,  and  were  8usj)eniled  in  St. 
Paul's  Church,  amidst  the  rf)ar  of  giins  and  kettle-drums, 
and  the  shouts  of  an  inunense  multitude.  Addresses  of 
congrattdation  came  in  from  all  the  great  towtis  of  En- 
gland. Pirliiimeiit  met  fudy  to  decree  thanks  and  monu- 
ments, and  to  bestow,  without  on«'  unirmur,  sujiplies  more 


94  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

than  double  of  those  wliieh  had  been  given  during  tho 
war  of  the  CJrand  Alliance. 

The  year  1759  opened  with  the  conquest  of  Goree.  Next 
fell  nuadaloupe;  then  Ticoiulerofjra  ;  then  Niagara.  The 
Toulon  squadron  was  completely  defeated  by  Boscawen  off 
Cape  Lagos.  But  the  greatest  exploit  of  the  year  was  the 
achievement  of  Wolfe  on  the  heights  of  Abraham.  The 
news  of  his  glorious  death  and  of  the  fall  of  Quebec 
reached  London  in  the  very  week  in  which  the  Houses 
met.  All  was  joy  and  triumph.  Envy  and  faction  were 
forced  to  join  in  the  general  applause.  Whigs  and  Tories 
vied  with  each  other  in  extolling  the  genius  and  energy 
of  Pitt.  His  colleagues  were  never  talked  of  or  thought 
of.  The  House  of  Commons,  the  nation,  the  colonies, 
our  allies,  our  enemies,  had  their  eyes  fixed  on  him 
alone. 

Scarcely  had  Parliament  voted  a  monument  to  Wolfe 
when  another  great  event  called  for  fresh  rejoicings.  The 
Brest  fleet,  under  the  command  of  C'onflans,  had  put  out  to 
sea.  It  was  overtaken  by  an  English  squadron  under 
Hawke.  Conflans  attempted  to  take  shelter  close  under 
the  French  coast.  The  shore  was  rocky;  the  night  was 
black:  the  wind  was  furious:  the  waves  of  the  Bay  of 
Biscay  ran  high.  But  Pitt  had  infused  into  every  branch 
of  the  service  a  spirit  which  had  long  been  unknown. 
No  British  seaman  was  dispr.sed  to  err  on  the  same  side 
with  Byng.  The  pilot  told  Hawke  that  the  attack  could 
not  be  made  without  tho  greatest  danger.  "You  have 
done  your  duty  in  remonstrating,"  answered  Hawke;  "I 
will  answer  for  everything.  I  command  you  to  lay  me 
alongside  tho  French  admiral."  Two  French  ships  of  the 
line  struck.  Four  were  destroyed.  The  rest  hid  them- 
eelves  in  the  rivers  of  Brittany. 

The  year  1760  came;  and  still  triumph  followed  tri- 
umph. Montreal  was  taken  ;  the  whole  province  of  Canada 
was  subjugated;  the  French  fleets  underwent  a  succession 
of  disasters  in  the  seas  of  Europe  and  Anierica. 

In  the  mean  time  conquests  equaling  in  rapidity,  and 
far  surpassing  in  magnitude,  those  of  Cortez  and  Pizarro, 
had  Vjeen  achieved  in  the  East.  In  the  space  of  three 
years  the  English  had  founded  a  mighty  empire.  The 
French    had    been    defeated    in    every    part    of    India. 


\YILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM         95 

Chandernagore  had  surrendered  to  Clive,  Pondicherry  to 
Coote.  Throughout  Bengal,  Bahar,  Orissa,  and  the  Car- 
natic,  the  authority  of  the  East  India  Company  was  more 
absolute  than  that  of  Akbar  or  Aurungzebe  *  had  ever  been. 
On  the  continent  of  Europe  the  odds  were  against 
England.  We  had  but  one  important  ally,  the  King  of 
Prussia;  and  he  was  attacked,  not  only  by  France,  but 
also  by  Russia  and  Austria.  Yet  even  on  the  Continent 
the  energy  of  Pitt  triumphed  over  all  dTflSculties.  Vehe- 
mently as  he  had  condemned  the  practice  of  subsidizing 
foreign  princes,  he  now  carried  that  practise  farther  than 
Carteret  would  have  ventured  to  do.  The  active  and  able 
Sovereign  of  Prussia  received  such  pecuniary  assistance 
^s-  enabled  him  to  maintain  the  conflict  on  equal  terms 
against  his  powerful  enemies.  On  no  subject  had  Pitt 
ever  spoken  with  so  much  eloquence  and  ardor  as  on  the 
mischiefs  of  the  Hanoverian  connection.  He  now  de- 
clared, not  without  much  show  of  reason,  that  it  would  be 
unworthy  of  the  English  people  to  suffer  their  King  to  be 
deprived  of  his  electoral  dominions  in  an  English  quarrel. 
He  assured  his  countrymen  that  they  should  be  no  losers, 
and  that  he  would  conquer  America  for  them  in  Germany. 
By  taking  this  line  he  conciliated  the  King,  and  lost 
no  part  of  his  influence  with  the  nation.  In  Parliament, 
such  was  the  ascendency  which  his  eloquence,  his  success, 
his  high  situation,  his  pride,  and  his  intrepidity  had  ob- 
tained for  him,  that  he  took  liberties  with  the  House  of 
which  there  had  been  no  example,  and  wliich  have  never 
since  been  imitated.  No  orator  could  there  venture  to 
reproach  him  with  inconsistency.  One  unfortunate  man 
made  the  attemf)t,  and  was  sn  nnich  disconcerted  by  th<' 
scornful  demeanor  of  tlic  Minister  that  he  stammcretl, 
fltoppefl,  and  sat  down.  Even  the  old  Tory  country  gen- 
tlemen, to  whom  the  very  name  of  Hanover  had  been 
odious,  gave  their  hearty  ayes  to  suljsidy  after  subsidy. 
In  a  lively  contemi)orary  satire,  much  more  lively  indeed 
than  delicate,  this  renuirkable  conversion  is  not  unhappily 
described. 

•  Akbar  and  AurunKZobn  wore  two  fnmouH  Indian  ••mpororB.  Thf^ 
formiT  waH  famouH  for  fcHkIouh  toliTunn-  and  Hound  rcfoririH  in 
admlnlHtratlon.  Th<?  latter  attained  hln  royal  poHltlnn  by  removing 
any   memberH  oT   hls<   family   whom    he   regartled    an    Impedlnu'nts. 


96  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

"No  more  tlipy  mako  a  liddlc-faddle 
About  a  Hfssiaii  horse  or  saddle. 
No  more  of  coiiiiiiciital   iiicasiirea; 
No  more  of  wasting  IJritisli  ircasures. 
Ten  millions,  and  a  vote  of  iredit, 
'Tis  right.     He  can't  be  wrong  who  did  it." 

Tho  success  of  Pitt's  continental  measures  was  such  as 
might  have  beeil  expected  from  their  vigor.  When  he 
came  into  power,  Hanover  was  in  imminent  danger;  and 
before  he  had  been  in  office  three  months,  the  whole 
electorate  was  in  the  liands  of  France.  But  the  face  of 
affairs  was  speedily  changed.  The  invaders  were  driven 
out.  An  army,  partly  English,  partly  Hanoverian,  partly 
composed  of  soldiers  furnished  by  the  petty  princes  of 
Germany,  was  placed  under  the  command  of  Prince  Fer- 
dinaTid  of  Brunswick.  The  French  were  beaten  in  1758 
at  Crevelt.  In  17.')!)  they  received  a  still  more  coinplete 
and  humiliating  defeat  at  Minden. 

In  the  meantime,  the  nation  exhibited  all  the  signs  of 
wealth  and  prosperity.  The  merchants  of  London  had 
never  been  more  thriving.  The  importance  of  several 
great  coniiiiercial  and  manufacturing  towns,  of  Glasgow 
in  particular,  dates  from  this  period.  The  fine  inscription 
on  the  monument  of  Lord  Chatham  in  Guildhall  records 
the  general  opinion  of  the  citizens  of  London,  that  under 
his  administration  commerce  had  been  "united  with  and 
made  to  flourish  by  war." 

It  must  be  owned  that  these  signs  of  prosperity  were 
in  some  degree  delusive.  It  must  be  owned  that  some  of 
our  conquests  were  rather  splendid  than  useful.  It  must 
be  owned  that  the  exi)ense  f)f  the  war  never  entered  into 
Pitt's  consideration.  Perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to 
say  that  the  cost  of  his  victories  increased  the  pleasure 
with  which  he  contemplated  them.  Unlike  other  men  in 
his  situation,  he  loved  to  exaggerate  the  sums  which  the 
nation  was  laying  out  under  his  direction.  He  was  proud 
of  the  sacrifices  and  efforts  which  his  eloquence  and  his 
success  had  induced  his  countrymen  to  make.  The  price 
at  which  he  purchased  faithful  service  and  complete  vic- 
tory, though  far  smaller  than  that  which  his  son,  the  most 
profuse  and  incapable  of  war  ministers,  paid  for  treachery, 


WILLIAM  PITT,  EARL  OF  CHATHAM        97 

defeat,  and  shame,  was  long  and  severely  felt  by  the 
nation. 

Even  as  a  war  minister,  Pitt  is  scarcely  entitled  to  all 
the  praise  which  his  contemporaries  lavished  on  him.  We, 
perhaps  from  ignorance,  cannot  discern  in  his  arrange- 
ments any  appearance  of  profound  or  dexterous  combi- 
nation. Several  of  his  expeditions,  particularly  those 
which  were  sent  to  the  coast  of  France,  were  at  once 
costly  and  absurd.  Our  Indian  conquests,  though  they 
add  to  the  splendor  of  the  period  during  which  he  was 
at  the  head  of  affairs,  were  not  planned  by  him.  He  had 
undoubtedly  great  energy,  great  determination,  great 
means  at  his  command.  His  temper  was  enterprising; 
and,  situated  as  he  was,  he  had  oidy  to  follow  his  temper. 
The  wealth  of  a  rich  nation,  the  valor  of  a  brave  nation, 
were  ready  to  support  him  in  every  attempt. 

In  one  respect,  however,  ho  deserved  all  the  praise  that 
he  has  ever  received.  The  success  of  our  arms  was  per- 
haps owing  less  to  the  skill  of  h-is  dispositions  than  to  the 
national  resources  and  the  national  spirit.  But  that  the 
national  spirit  rose  to  the  emergency,  that  the  national 
resources  were  contributed  with  unoxami)lc(l  cheerfulness. 
this  was  undoiil)tcdIy  his  work.  The  ardor  of  his  soul  had 
set  the  whole  kingdom  on  fire.  It  inflamed  every  soldier 
who  dragged  the  cannon  up  the  heights  of  Quebec,  and 
every  sailor  who  boarded  the  French  ships  among  the 
rocks  of  Brittany.  The  ^linister,  before  he  had  been  long 
in  office,  had  imparted  to  the  connnanders  whom  he  em- 
ployed his  own  impetuous,  adventurous,  and  defying  char- 
acter. They,  like  him,  were  dispostHJ  to  risk  everytliing, 
to  play  double,  f)r  (juits  to  the  last,  to  think  notliing  done 
while  anything  remained  undone;  to  fail  ratlier  tlian  not 
to  attempt.  For  the  errors  of  rashness  there  niiglit  be 
inibilgeiice.  For  over-caution,  for  faults  like  those  of 
Lord  (Jeorge  .Sackville,  there  was  no  mercy.  In  other 
times,  and  against  other  enemies,  this  mode  of  warfare 
might  have  failed.  But  tlic  state  of  tlie  French  govern- 
ment and  of  tb(!  French  luition  gave  every  advantage 
to  Pitt.  The  fops  and  intriguers  of  Versailles  were  a])- 
palle<l  an<l  bewildered  by  his  vigor.  A  panic  spread 
through  all  ranks  of  society.  Our  enemies  soon  consid- 
ered it  as  a  settled   tbing  that  tbey   were  always  to   be 


^8  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

beaten.  Thus  victory  begot  vietory;  till,  at  last,  wherever 
the  forces  of  the  two  nations  met,  they  jnet  with  dis- 
dainful confidence  on  the  one  side,  and  with  a  craven  fear 
on  the  other. 

s,  The  situation  which  Pitt  occupied  at  the  close  of  the 
reign  of  George  the  Second  was  the  most  enviable  ever 
occupied  by  any  public  man  in  English  history.  He  had 
conciliated  the  King;  he  domineered  over  the  House  of 
Commons;  he  was  adored  by  the  people;  he  was  adniired 
by  all  Europe.  He  was  the  first  Englishman  of  his  time; 
and  he  had  made  England  the  first  country  in  the  world. 
The  Great  Commoner,  the  name  by  which  he  was  often 
designated,  might  look  down  with  scorn  on  coronets  and 
garters.  The  nation  was  drunk  with  joy  and  pride.  The 
Parliament  was  as  quiet  as  it  had  been  under  Pelham. 
The  old  party  distinctions  were  almost  effaced;  nor  was 
their  place  yet  supplied  by  distinctions  of  a  still  more  im- 
portant kind.  A  new  generation  of  country  squires  and 
rectors  had  arisen  who  knew  not  the  Stuarts.  The  Dis- 
senters were  tolerated;  the  Catholics  not  cruelly  perse- 
cuted. The  Church  was  drowsy  and  indulgent.  The  great 
civil  and  religious  conflict  which  begun  at  the  Reforma- 
tion seemed  to  have  terminated  in  universal  repose. 
Whigs  and  Tories,  Churclniicn  and  Puritans,  spoke  with 
equdl  reverence  of  the  constitution,  and  with  equal  enthu- 
siasm of  the  talents,  virtues,  and  services  of  the  Minister. 
A  few  years  sufficed  to  change  the  whole  aspect  of 
affairs.  A  nation  convulsed  by  faction,  a  throne  assailed 
by  the  fiercest  invective,  a  House  of  Commons  hated  and 
despised  by  the  nation,  England  set  against  Scotland, 
Britain  set  against  America,  a  rival  legislature  sitting 
beyond  the  Atlantic,  English  blood  shed  by  English  bayo- 
nets, our  armies  capitulating,  our  con(iucsts  wrested  from 
us,  our  enemies  hastening  to  take  vengeance  for  past  hu- 
miliation, our  flag  scarcely  able  to  maintain  itself  in  our 
own  seas,  such  was  the  spectacle  which  Pitt  lived  to  see. 
But  the  history  of  this  great  revolution  requires  far  more 
space  than  we  can  at  present  bestow.  We  leave  the  Great 
Commoner  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  we  may  take  Some  other  opportunity  of  tracing  his 
lifie  to  its  melancholy,  yet  not  inglorious  close. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM.     (October,  1844.) 

1.  Correspondence  of  WiUinm  Pitt,  Earl  of  Chatham.     4  vols. 

8vo.      London:    1840. 

2.  Letters  of  Horace  Walpole,  Karl  of  Orford,  to  Horace  Mann. 

4  vols.     8vo.     London:     184:5-4. 

More  than  ten  years  ago  we  commenced  a  sketch  of  the 
poKtical  life  of  the  great  Lord  Chatham.  We  then  stopped 
at  the  death  of  George  the  Second,  with  the  intention  of 
speedily  resuming  our  task.  Circumstances,  which  it 
would  be  tedious  to  explain,  long  prevented  us  from  carry- 
ing this  intention  into  effect.  Xor  can  we  regret  the 
delay.  For  the  materials  which  were  within  our  reach 
in  1834  were  scanty  and  unsatisfactory,  when  compared 
with  those  which  we  at  present  possess.  Even  now, 
though  we  have  had  access  to  some  valuable  sources  of 
information  which  have  not  yet  been  opened  to  the  public, 
we  cannot  but  fc^el  that  the  history  of  the  first  ten  years 
of  the  reign  of  (leorge  the  Third  is  but  imperfectly  known, 
to  us.  Nevertht'less,  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  we 
are  in  a  condition  to  lay  before  our  readers  a  narrative 
neither  uninstructive  nor  uninteresting.  We  therefore 
return  with  pleasure  to  our  long  interrupted  labor. 

We  left  Pitt  in  the  zenith  of  prosperity  and  glory,  the 
idol  of  England,  the  trrror  of  France,  the  admiration  of 
the  whole  civili/.cd  world.  The  wind,  from  whatever  quar- 
ter it  blew,  carried  to  Euglaiid  titliugs  of  battles  won, 
fortresses  taken,  provinces  added  to  the  empire.  At  home, 
factions  had  sunk  into  a  lethargy,  such  as  had  never  been 
known  since  the  great  religious  schism  of  the  sixteenth 
century  had  roused  the  public  mind  from  repose. 

In  order  that  the  events  which  we  have  to  relate  may 
bo  clearly  understood,  it  may  be  desirable  that  we  should 
advert  to  the  causes  wliicli  liiid  for  a  time  suspended  the 
animation  of  both  the  great  English  parties. 

If,  rejecting  all  that  is  merely  accidental,  we  look  at 

99 


100  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

the  essential  characteristics  of  the  Whig  and  the  Tory, 
we  may  consider  cacli  of  them  as  the  representative  of 
a  great  principle,  essential  to  the  welfare  of  nations.  One 
is,  in  an  especial  manner,  the  guardian  of  liberty,  and 
the  other,  of  order.  One  is  the  moving  power,  and  tne 
other  the  steadying  i)ower  of  the  state.  One  is  the  sail, 
without  wiiich  society  would  make  no  progress,  the  other 
the  ballast,  without  which  there  would  be  small  safety  in 
a  tempest.  But,  during  the  forty-six  years  which  followed 
the  accession  of  the  house  of  Hanover,  these  distinctive 
peculiarities  seemed  to  be  effaced.  The  Whig  conceived 
that  he  could  not  better  serve  the  cause  of  civil  and  relig- 
ious freedom  than  by  strenuously  supporting  the  Protes- 
tant dynasty.  The  Tory  conceived  that  he  could  not  bet- 
ter prove  his  hatred  of  revolutions  than  by  attacking  a 
government  to  which  a  revolution  had  given  birth.  Both 
came  by  degrees  to  attach  more  importance  to  the  means 
than  to  the  end.  Both  were  thrown  into  unnatural  situ- 
ations; and  both,  like  animals  transported  to  an  uncon- 
genial climate,  languished  and  degenerated.  The  Tory, 
removed  from  the  sunshine  of  the  court,  was  as  a  camel 
in  the  snows  of  Lapland.  The  Whig,  basking  in  the  rays 
of  royal  favor,  was  as  a  reindeer  in  the  sands  of  Arabia. 

Dante  tells  us  that  he  saw,  in  Malebolge,*  a  strange 
encounter  between  a  human  form  and  a  serpent.  The 
enemies,  after  cruel  wounds  inflicted,  stood  for  a  time 
glaring  on  each  other.  A  great  cloud  surrounded  them, 
and  then  a  wonderful  metamorphosis  began.  Each  crea- 
ture was  transfigured  into  the  likeness  of  its  antagonist. 
The  serpent's  tail  divided  itself  into  two  legs;  the  man's 
legs  intertwined  themselves  into  a  tail.  The  body  of  the 
s?rpent  put  forth  arms ;  the  arms  of  the  man  shrank  into 
his  body.  At  length  the  serpent  stood  up  a  man,  and 
spake;  the  man  sank  down  a  serj^ent,  and  glided  hissing 
away.  Something  like  this  was  the  transformation  which, 
during  the  reign  of  (Jeorge  the  First,  befell  the  two  Eng- 
lish parties.  Each  gradually  took  the  shape  and  color 
of  its  foe.  till  at  length  the  Tory  rose  up  erect,  the  zealot 
of  freedom,  and  the  Whig  crawled  and  licked  the  dust 
at  the  feet  of  power. 

•  Malebolge  Is  the  eighth  circle  In  Dante'a  Inferno,  a  region  ef 
pits  or  bolgi. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  101 

It  is  true  that,  when  these  degenerate  politicians  dis- 
cussed questions  merely  speculative,  and,  above  all,  when 
they  discussed  questions  relating  to  the  conduct  of  their 
own  grandfathers,  they  still  seemed  to  diifer  as  their  grand- 
fathers had  differed.  The  Whig,  who,  during  three  Parlia- 
ments, had  never  given  one  vote  against  the  court,  and 
who  was  ready  to  sell  his  soul  for  the  Comptroller's  staff 
or  for  the  Great  Wardrobe,  still  professed  to  draw  his 
political  doctrines  from  Locke  and  Milton,  still  worshiped 
the  memory  of  Pym  and  Hampden,  and  would  still,  on  the 
thirtieth  of  January,  take  his  glass,  first  to  the  man  in  the 
mask,*  and  then  to  the  man  who  would  do  it  without  a 
mask.  The  Tory,  on  the  other  hand,  while  he  reviled  the 
mild  and  temperate  Walpole  as  a  deadly  enemy  of  libe/ty, 
could  see  nothing  to  reprobate  in  the  iron  tyranny  of 
Strafford  and  Laud.  But,  whatever  judgment  the  Whig 
or  the  Tory  of  that  age  might  ])ronounce  on  transactions 
long  past,  there  can  be  no  doul^t  that,  as  respected  the 
practical  questions  then  pending,  the  Tory  was  a  reformer, 
and  indeed  an  intemperate  and  iiidiscroct  reformer,  while 
the  Whig  was  conservative  even  to  bigotry.  We  have  our- 
selves seen  similar  effects  produced  in  a  neighboring 
country  by  simihir  causes.  Wlio  would  liave  believed, 
fifteen  years  ago,  that  M.  Guizot  and  M.  Villeinain  would 
have  to  defend  property  and  social  order  against  the  at- 
tacks of  such  enemies  as  M.  C.cnoudc  and  M.  de  La  Roche 
Jaquelin  ? 

Tbus  the  successors  of  the  old  Cavaliers  had  turned 
demagogues;  the  successors  of  the  old  Roundbcads  had 
turned  courtiers.  Yet  was  it  long  before  their  mutual 
animosity  began  to  abate;  for  it  is  the  nature  of  parties 
to  retain  their  original  enmities  far  more  finidy  than  their 
original  principk^s.  During  many  years,  a  generation  of 
Wliigs,  wboin  Sidney  wonld  liave  spurned  as  slaves,  con- 
tinued to  wage  deadly  war  with  a  generation  of  Tories 
wbnm  Jeffreys  wr»u!d   have  hanged  for  repMl)licans. 

'I'browgh  tbe  wliole  reign  of  George  the  First,  and 
through  nearly  half  of  the  reign  of  (M-orge.  the  Second, 
a  Tory  was  regarded  as  an  enemy  of  the  reigning  house, 
and    was    exehulcd    from    all    the    favors   of    the    crown. 

•  The  "man  In  the  inaHk"  rofprs  to  the  exccutloniT  wlio  Txhpaded 
Charles   I    on    January    ruith,    1049. 


102  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Though  most  of  the  country  gentlemen  were  Tories,  none 
but  Whigs  were  created  peers  and  baronets.  Though  most 
of  the  clergy  were  Tories,  none  but  Whigs  were  appointed 
deans  and  bishops.  In  every  country,  opulent  and  well 
descended  Tory  squires  complained  that  their  names  were 
left  out  of  the  commission  of  the  peace,  while  men  of  small 
estate  and  mean  birth,  who  were  for  toleration  and  excise, 
septennial  parliaments  and  standing  armies,  presided  at 
quarter  sessions,  and  became  deputy  lieutenants. 

By  degrees  some  approaches  were  made  towards  a  recon- 
ciliation. While  Walpole  was  at  the  head  of  affairs,  en- 
mity to  his  power  induced  a  large  and  powerful  body  of 
Whigs,  headed  by  the  heir  apparent  of  the  throne,  to  make 
an  alliance  with  the  Tories,  and  a  truce  even  with  the 
Jacobites.  After  Sir  Robert's  fall,  the  ban  which  lay  on 
the  Tory  party  was  taken  off.  The  chief  places  in  the 
administration  continued  to  be  filled  by  Whigs,  and,  in- 
deed, could  scarcely  have  been  filled  otherwise ;  for  the 
Tory  nobility  and  gentry,  though  strong  in  numbers  and 
in  property,  had  among  them  scarcely  a  single  man  dis- 
tinguished by  talents,  either  for  business  or  for  debate. 
A  few  of  them,  however,  were  admitted  to  subordinate 
offices;  and  this  indulgence  i)roduced  a  softening  effect 
on  the  temper  of  the  whole  body.  The  first  levee  of  George 
the  Second  after  Walpole's  resignation  was  a  remarkable 
spectacle.  Mingled  with  the  constant  supporters  of  the 
House  of  Brunswick,  with  the  Russells,  the  Cavendishes, 
and  the  Pelhams,  appeared  a  crowd  of  faces  utterly  un- 
known to  the  pages  and  gentlemen  ushers,  lords  of  rural 
manors,  whose  ale  and  foxhounds  were  renowned  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  ^lendip  lulls,  or  round  the  Wrekin, 
and  who  had  never  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  palace  since 
the  days  when  Oxford,  with  the  white  staff  in  his  hand, 
stood  behind  Queen  Anne. 

During  the  eighteen  years  which  followed  this  day,  both 
factions  were  gradually  sinking  deeper  and  deeper  into  re- 
pose. The  apathy  of  the  public  mind  is  partly  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  unjust  violence  with  which  the  adminis- 
tration of  Walpole  had  been  assailed.  In  the  body  politic, 
as  in  the  natural  body,  morbid  languor  generally  succeeds 
morbid' excitement.  The  people  had  been  maddened  by 
sophistry,  by  calumny,  by  rhetoric,  by  stimulants  applied 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  103 

to  the  national  pride.  In  the  fuhiess  of  bread,  they  had 
raved  as  if  famine  had  been  in  the  land.  While  enjoying 
such  a  measure  of  civil  and  religious  freedom  as,  till  then, 
no  great  society  had  ever  known,  they  had  cried  out  for 
a  Timoleon  or  a  Brutus  to  stab  their  oppressor  to  the 
heart.  They  were  in  this  frame  of  mind  when  the  change 
of  administration  took  place;  and  they  soon  found  that 
there  was  to  be  no  change  whatever  in  the  system  of  gov- 
ernment. The  natural  consequences  followed.  To  fraiitie- 
zeal  succeeded  sullen  indifference.  The  cant  of  patriot- 
ism had  not  merely  ceased  to  charm  the  public  ear,  but 
had  become  as  nauseous  as  the  cant  of  Puritanism  after 
the  downfall  of  the  Rump.  The  hot  fit  was  oyer :  the  cold 
fit' had  begun:  and  it  was  long  before  seditious  arts,  or 
even  real  grievances,  could  bring  back  the  fiery  paroxysm 
which  had  run  its  course  and  reached  its  termination. 

Two  attempts  were  made  to  disturb  this  tranquillity. 
The  banished  heir  of  the  House  of  Stuart  headed  a  rebel- 
lion: the  discontented  heir  of  the  House  of  Brunswick 
headed  an  opposition.  Both  the  rebellion  and  the  opposi- 
tion came  to  nothing.  The  battle  of  Culloden  anniliilatod 
the  Jacobite  party.  The  death  of  Prince  Frederick  dis- 
solved the  faction  which,  under  his  guidance,  had  feebly 
striven  to  annoy  his  father's  government.  His  chief  fol- 
lowers hastened  to  make  their  peace  with  the  ministry; 
and   the  political   torpor  Inn-ame  complete. 

Five  years  after  the  death  of  Prince  Frederick,  the  public 
mind  was  for  a  time  violently  excited.  But  this  excite- 
nicnt  had  notliing  to  do  with  the  old  disputes  between 
Whigs  and  Tories.  England  was  at  war  with  France. 
The  war  had  been  feebly  conducted.  Minorca  had  been 
torn  from  us.  Our  ileet  had  retired  before  the  wliite  lliig 
of  the  House  of  Bourbon.  A  bitter  sense  of  humiliation, 
new  to  the  i)roudest  and  bravest  of  nations,  superseded 
every  other  feeling,  'i'lie  cry  of  all  the  counties  and  great 
towns  of  the  realm  was  for  a  government  which  would 
retrieve  the  hointr  of  the  English  arms.  The  two  most 
powerful  men  in  the  country  were  the  Duke  of  Newcastle 
and  Pitt.  Alternate  victories  an<l  defeats  had  made  them 
sensible  that  neither  f)f  them  <oidd  stand  alone'.  The 
interest  of  thi;  state,  and  the  interest  of  their  own  ambi- 
tion, impelled  them  to  coalesce.     J'y  their  coalition   was 


104  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

fornu'd  the  ministry  wliich  was  in  power  when  George 
the  Third  ascended  the  throne. 

The  more  carefully  the  structure  of  this  celebrated  min- 
istry is  examined,  the  more  shall  we  see  reason  to  marvel 
at  the  skill  or  the  luck  which  had  combined  in  one  har- 
monious whole  such  various  and,  as  it  seemed,  incom- 
patible elements  of  force.  The  iiiHuenco  which  is  derived 
from  stainless  integ-rity,  the  iiiHuence  which  is  derived 
from  the  vilest  arts  of  corruption,  the  strength  of  aris- 
tocratical  connection,  the  strength  of  democratical  enthu- 
siasm, all  these  things  were  for  the  first  time  found  to- 
gether. Newcastle  brought  to  the  coalition  a  vast  mass 
of  power,  which  had  descended  to  him  from  Walpole  and 
Pelham.  The  public  offices,  the  church,  the  courts  of  law, 
the  army,  the  navy,  the  diplomatic  service,  swarmed  with 
his  creatures.  The  boroughs,  which  long  afterwards  made 
up  the  memorable  schedules  A  and  li,  were  represented 
by  his  nominees.  The  great  Whig  families,  which,  dur- 
ing several  generations,  had  been  trained  in  the  discipline 
of  party  warfare,  and  were  accustomed  to  stand  together 
in  a  firm  phalanx,  acknowledged  him  as  their  captain. 
Pitt,  on  the  other  hand,  had  what  Newcastle  w^anted,  an 
eloquence  which  stirred  the  passions  and  charmed  the 
imagination,  a  high  reputation  for  purity,  and  the  confi- 
dence and  ardent  love  of  millions. 

The  partition  which  the  two  ministers  made  of  the 
powers  of  government  was  singularly  happy.  Each  occu- 
pied a  province  for  which  he  was  well  qualified;  and 
neither  had  any  inclination  to  intrude  himself  into  the 
province  of  the  other.  Newcastle  took  the  treasury,  the 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  patronage,  and  the  disposal  of  that 
part  of  secret  .service  money  which  was  then  employed 
in  bribing  members  of  Parliament.  Pitt  was  Secretary 
of  State,  with  the  direction  of  the  war  and  of  foreign 
affairs.  Thus  the  filth  of  all  the  noisome  and  pestilential 
sewers  of  government  was  poured  into  one  channel. 
Through  the  olher  passed  oidy  what  was  bright  and  stain- 
less. ]\rean  and  selfish  politicians,  pining  for  commission- 
erships,  gold  sticks,  and  riV)bons,  flocked  to  the  great  house 
at  the  corner  of  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  There,  at  every 
levee,  appeared  eighteen  or  twenty  pair  of  lawn  sleeves; 
for  there  was  not,  it  was  said,  a  single  Prelate  who  had 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  105 

not  owned  either  his  first  elevation  or  some  subsequent 
transhition  to  Newcastle.  There  appeared  those  members 
of  the  House  of  Commons  in  whose  silent  votes  the  main 
strength  of  the  government  lay.  One  wanted  a  place  in 
the  excise  for  his  butler.  Another  came  about  a  prebend 
for  his  son.  A  third  whispered  that  he  had  always  stood 
by  his  Grace  and  the  Protestant  succession;  that  his  last 
election  had  been  very  expensive;  that  pot-wallopers  had 
now  no  conscience;  that  he  had  been  forced  to  take  up 
money  on  mortgage;  and  that  he  hardly  knew  where  to 
turn  for  five  hundred  pounds.  The  Duke  pressed  all  their 
hands,  passed  his  arms  round  all  their  shoulders,  patted 
.all  their  backs,  and  sent  away  some  with  wages,  and  some 
with  promises.  From  this  traffic  Pitt  stood  haughtily 
aloof.  Not  only  was  he  himself  incorruptible,  but  he 
shrank  from  the  loathesome  drudgery  of  corrupting  others. 
He  had  not,  however,  been  twenty  years  in  Parliament, 
and  ten  in  office,  without  discovering  how  the  government 
was  carried  on.  He  was  perfectly  aware  that  bribery  was 
practiced  on  a  large  scale  by  his  colleagues.  Hating  the 
practice,  yet  despairing  of  putting  it  down,  and  doubting 
whether,  in  those  times,  any  ministry  could  stand  without 
it,  he  determined  to  be  blind  to  it.  He  would  see  noth- 
ing, know  nothing,  believe  nothing.  People  who  came  to 
talk  to  him  about  shares  in  lucrative  contracts,  or  about 
the  means  of  securing  a  Cornish  corporation,  were  soon 
put  out  of  counteiiiince  by  his  arrogant  humility.  They 
did  him  too  much  honor.  Such  matters  were  beyond  his 
capacity.  It  was  true  that  his  poor  advice  about  expedi- 
tions and  treaties  was  listened  to  with  indulgence  by  n 
gracious  sovereign.  If  the  question  were,  who  should 
command  in  .Vortb  Aincrif-a,  or  who  slK)uld  be  ambassador 
at  Perlin,  bis  follcagucs  would  proliably  condescend  to 
take  his  opinion.  I>ut  he  bad  not  the  smallest  influence 
with  the  Secretary  of  tlie  Treiisury,  and  coiild  not  venture 
to  ask  even   for  a  tidewaiters  i)lace. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  he  did  not  owe  as  much  of 
his  popularity  to  his  ostentatious  ]iurity  as  to  his  elo- 
quence, or  to  his  talents  for  tlie  a<lininistration  f)f  war. 
It  was  everywhere  said  with  delight  ;ni<l  mlmiration  that 
the  great  Coinmoner.  without  any  advantages  of  birth  or 
fortune,  had,  in  sjtite  of  tlie  dislike  of  the  Court  and  of 


106  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

the  aristocracy,  made  himself  the  first  man  in  Enghmd, 
and  made  Enghuid  th(>  first  country  in  the  world;  that  his 
name  was  meniionod  with  awe  in  every  pahice  from  Lishon 
to  Moscow;  that  his  trophies  were  all  in  the  four  quarters 
of  tlie  plohe;  yet  that  he  was  still  plain  William  Pitt, 
without  title  or  ribbon,  without  pension  or  sinecure  place. 
Whenever  he  should  retire,  after  saving  the  state,  he  must 
sell  his  coach  horses  and  his  silver  candlesticks.  Widely 
as  the  taint  of  corruption  had  spread,  his  hands  were  clean. 
They  had  never  received,  they  had  never  given,  the  price  of 
infamy.  Thus  the  coalition  gathered  to  itself  support 
from  all  the  high  and  all  the  low  parts  of  human  nature, 
and  was  strong  with  the  whole  united  strength  of  virtue 
and  of  Mammon. 

Pitt  and  Newcastle  were  coordinate  chief  ministers. 
The  subordinate  places  had  been  filled  on  the  principle  of 
including  in  the  government  every  party  and  shade  of 
party,  the  avowed  Jacobites  alone  excepted,  nay,  every 
public  man  who,  from  his  abilities  or  from  his  situation, 
seemed  likely  to  be  either  useful  in  office  or  formidable  in 
opposition. 

The  Whigs,  according  to  what  was  then  considered  as 
their  prescriptive  right,  held  by  far  the  largest  share  of 
power.  The  main  support  of  the  administration  was  what 
may  be  called  the  great  Whig  connection,  a  connection 
which,  during  near  half  a  century,  had  generally  had  the 
chief  sway  in  the  country  and  which  derived  an  immense 
authority  from  rank,  wealth,  borough  interest,  and  firm 
union.  To  this  coimection,  of  which  Newcastle  was  the 
head,  belonged  the  houses  of  Cavendish,  Lennox,  Fitzroy, 
Bentinck,  Manners,  Conway,  Wentworth,  and  many  others 
of  high  note. 

There  were  two  other  powerful  Whig  connections,  either 
of  which  might  have  been  a  nucleus  for  a  strong  opposi- 
tion. Put  room  had  been  found  in  the  government  for 
both.  They  were  known  as  the  Orenvilles  and  the  Bed- 
fords. 

The  head  of  the  Crcnvilles  was  Pichard  Earl  Temple. 
His  talents  for  administration  and  debate  were  of  no  high 
order.  But  his  great  possessions,  his  turbulent  and  un- 
scrupulous character,  his  restless  activity,  and  his  skill  in 
the  most  ignoble  tactics  of  faction,  made  him  one  of  the 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  107 

most  formidable  enemies  that  a  ministry  could  have.  He 
was  keeper  of  the  privy  seal.  His  brother  George  was 
treasurer  of  the  navy.  They  were  supposed  to  be  on  terms 
of  close  friendship  with  Pitt,  who  had  married  their  sis- 
ter, and  was  the  most  uxorious  of  husbands. 

The  Bedfords,  or,  as  they  were  called  by  their  enemies, 
the  Bloomsbury  gang,  professed  to  be  led  by  John,  Duke 
of  Bedford,  but  in  truth  led  him  wherever  they  chose,  and 
very  often  led  him  where  he  never  would  have  gone  of  his 
own  accord.  He  had  many  good  qualities  of  head  and 
heart,  and  would  have  been  certainly  a  respectable,  and 
possibly  a  distinguished  man,  if  he  had  been  less  under  the 
influence  of  his  friends,  or  more  fortunate  in  choosing 
them.  Some  of  them  were  indeed,  to  do  them  justice,  men 
of  parts.  But  here,  we  are  afraid,  eulogy  must  end. 
Sandwich  and  Kigby  were  able  debaters,  pleasant  boon 
companions,  dexterous  intriguers,  masters  of  all  the  arts 
of  jobbing  and  electioneering,  and,  both  in  public  and 
private  life,  shamelessly  immoral.  Weymouth  had  a  nat- 
ural eloquence,  which  sometimes  astonished  those  who 
knew  how  little  he  owed  to  study.  But  he  was  indolent 
and  dissolute,  and  had  early  impaired  a  fine  estate  with 
the  dicebox,  and  a  tine  constitution  with  ,the  bottle.  The 
wealth  and  power  of  the  Duke,  and  the  talents  and  au- 
dacity of  some  of  his  retainers,  might  have  seriously  an- 
noyed the  strongest  ministry.  But  his  assistance  had  been 
secured.  He  was  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland;  Kigby  was 
his  secretary';  and  the  wliole  party  dutifully  sujiported  the 
measures  of  the  (Government. 

Two  men  had,  a  short  time  before,  been  thought  likely 
to  contest  with  Pitt  the  lead  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
William  Murray  and  Henry  Fox.  But  Murray  had  been 
removed  to  the  Lords,  and  was  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's 
Bench.  Vox  was  indeed  still  in  the  Commons:  but  means 
had  been  found  to  secure,  if  not  his  strenuous  support,  at 
least  his  silent  acquieseence.  He  was  a  poor  man ;  hv 
was  a  doting  fatlier.  The  office  of  Pnymaster-Ceneral 
during  an  expensive  war  was,  in  that  age,  perhaps  the 
most  lucrative  situation  in  the  gift  of  the  government. 
This  offier-  wjis  bestowed  on  Fox.  The  prospect  of  making 
a  noble  fortune  in  a  few  years,  and  of  providing  amply 
for  his  darling  boy  Charles,  was  irresistibly  tempting.     To 


108  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

hold  a  subordinate  place,  however  profitable,  after  having 
led  the  House  of  Commons,  and  having  been  intrusted 
with  the  business  of  foruiiiifj  a  ministry,  was  indeed  a 
great  descent.  But  a  punctilious  sense  of  personal  dignity 
was  no  part  of  the  character  of  Henry  Fox. 

We  have  no  time  to  enumerate  all  the  other  men  of 
weight  who  were,  by  some  tie  or  other,  attached  to  the 
government.  We  may  mention  Hardwicke,  reputed  the 
first  lawyer  of  the  age;  Legge,  reputed  the  first  financier 
of  the  age;  the  acute  and  ready  Oswald;  the  bold  and 
humorous  Nugent;  Charles  Townshend,  the  most  brilliant 
and  versatile  of  mankind;  Elliot,  Barrington,  North, 
Pratt.  Indeed,  as  far  as  we  recollect,  there  were  in  the 
whole  House  of  Commons  only  two  men  of  distinguished 
abilities  who  were  not  connected  with  the  government; 
and  those  two  men  stood  so  low  in  public  estimation,  that 
the  only  service  which  they  could  have  rendered  to  any 
government  would  have  been  to  oppose  it.  We  speak  of 
Lord  George  Sackville  and  Bubb  Dodington. 

Though  most  of  the  ofiicial  men,  and  all  the  members 
of  the  cabinet,  were  reputed  Whigs,  the  Tories  were  by 
no  means  excluded  from  employment.  Pitt  had  gratified 
many  of  them  with  commands  in  the  militia,  which  in- 
creased both  their  income  and  their  importance  in  their 
own  counties;  and  they  were  therefore  in  better  humor 
than  at  any  time  since  the  death  of  Anne.  Some  of  the 
party  still  continued  to  grumble  over  their  punch  at  the 
Cocoa-Treo;*  but  in  the  House  of  Commons  not  a  single 
one  of  the  malcontents  durst  lift  his  eyes  above  the  buckle 
of  Pitt's  shoe. 

Thus  there  was  absolutely  no  opposition.  Nay,  there 
was  no  sign  from  which  it  could  be  guessed  in  what  quar- 
ter opposition  was  likely  to  arise.  Several  years  passed 
during  which  Parlijunent  seemed  to  have  abdicated  its 
chief  functions.  The  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
during  four  sessions,  contain  no  trace  of  a  division  on  a 
party  question.  The  supplies,  though  beyond  precedent 
great,  were  voted  without  discussion.  Thi-  most  animated 
debates  of  that  period  were  on  road  bills  and  inclosure  bills. 

•  The  rocoa-Tree  was  a  London  club  at  64  James  Street,  started 
during  the  reign  of  Anne,  which  became  the  headquarters  of  the 
Jacobite  party. 


I 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  109 

The  old  King  was  content ;  and  it  mattered  little  whether 
he  were  content  or  not.  It  would  have  been  impossible 
for  him  to  emancipate  himself  from  a  ministry  so  power- 
ful, even  if  he  had  been  inclined  to  do  so.  But  he  had 
no  such  inclination.  He  had  once,  indeed,  been  strongly 
prejudiced  against  Pitt,  and  had  repeatedly  been  ill  used 
by  Newcastle;  but  the  vigor  and  success  with  which  the 
war  had  been  waged  in  Germany,  and  the  smoothness  with 
which  all  public  business  was  carried  on,  had  produced 
a  favorable  change  in  the  royal  mind. 

Such  was  the  posture  of  affairs  when,  on  the  twenty-fifth 
of  October,  1760,  George  the  Second  suddenly  died,  and 
George  the  Third,  then  twenty-two  years  old,  became  Iving. 
The  situation  of  George  the  Third  differed  widely  from 
that  of  his  grandfather  and  that  of  his  great-grandfather. 
Many  years  had  elapsed  since  a  sovereign  of  England  had 
been  an  object  of  affection  to  any  part  of  his  people.  The 
first  two  Kings  of  the  House  of  Hanover  had  neither  those 
hereditary  rights  which  have  often  supplied  the  defect 
of  merit,  nor  those  personal  qualities  which  have  often 
supplied  the  defect  of  title.  A  prince  may  be  popular 
with  little  virtue  or  capacity,  if  he  reigns  by  birthright 
derived  from  a  long  line  of  illustrious  predecessors.  An 
usurper  mav  be  popular,  if  his  genius  has  saved  or  ag- 
grandized the  nation  which  he  governs.  Perhaps  no  rul- 
ers have  in  our  time  had  a  stronger  hold  on  the  affection 
of  subjects  than  the  Emperor  Francis,  and  his  son-in-law 
the  Emperor  Napoleon.  But  imagine  a  ruler  with  no 
better  title  than  Xapolcon,  and  no  better  understanding 
than  Francis.  Richard  CroMiwcll  was  such  a  ruler;  and. 
as  soon  as  an  arm  was  lifted  up  against  him,  he  fell  with- 
out a  struggle,  amidst  universal  derision.  George  the 
First  and  George  tlu'  Second  were  in  a  situation  wliich 
bore  some  resemblance  to  that  of  Richard  Cromwell. 
They  were  saved  from  the  fate  of  Richard  (^romwell  by 
the  strenuous  and  al)le  exertions  of  the  Wliig  party,  and 
by  the  general  conviction  that  the  nation  had  no  choice 
but  between  the  House  of  Brunswick  and  I'opery.  But 
l)y  no  class  were  the  Gu<"li»lis  regarded  with  that  devoted 
affection,  of  which  Charles  the  P'irst,  Charles  the  Second, 
and  James  the  Second,  in  spite  of  the  greatest  faults, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  misfortunes,  received  in- 


110  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

« 

lunnerable  proofs.  Those  Wliigs  who  stood  by  the  new 
dynasty  so  nianfully  with  purse  and  sword  did  so  on  prin- 
ciples independent  of,  and  indeed  ahnost  incompatihlo 
with,  the  sentiment  of  devoted  royalty.  The  moderate 
Tories  regarded  the  foreign  dynasty  as  a  great  evil,  which 
mnst  be  endnred  for  fear  of  a  greater  evil.  In  the  eyes 
of  the  high'  Tories,  the  Elector  was  the  most  hateful  of 
robbers  and  tyrants.  The  crown  of  another  was  on  his 
head ;  the  blood  of  the  brave  and  loyal  was  on  his  hands 
Thus,  during  many  years,  the  Kings  of  England  were 
objects  of  strong  personal  aversion  to  many  of  their  sub- 
jects, and  of  strong  personal  attachment  to  none.  They 
found,  indeed,  firm  and  cordial  support  against  the  pre- 
tender to  their  throne;  but  this  support  was  given,  not 
at  all  for  their  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  religious  and 
political  system  which  would  have  been  endangered  by 
their  fall.  This  support,  too,  the.v  were  compelled  to  pur- 
chase by  perpetuall.v  sacrificing  their  private  inclinations 
to  the  party  which  had  set  them  on  the  throne,  and  which 
maintained  them  there. 

At  the  close  of  the  reign  of  George  the  Second,  the  feel- 
ing of  aversion  with  which  the  House  of  Brunswick  had 
long  been  regarded  by  half  the  nation  had  died  away;  but 
no  feeling  of  affection  to  that  house  had  yet  sprung  up. 
There  was  little,  indeed,  in  the  old  King's  character  to 
inspire  esteem  or  tenderness.  He  was  not  our  country- 
man. He  never  set  foot  on  our  soil  till  he  was  more  than 
thirty  years  old.  His  speech  betrayed  his  foreign  origin 
and  breeding.  His  love  for  his  native  land,  though  the 
most  amiable  part  of  his  character,  was  not  likely  to  en- 
dear him  to  his  British  subjects.  He  was  never  so  happ.y 
as  when  he  could  exchange  St.  James's  for  Hernhausen. 
Year  after  year,  our  fleets  were  employed  to  convoy  him  to 
the  Continent,  and  the  interests  of  his  kingdom  were  as 
nothing  to  him  when  compared  with  the  interests  of  his 
Electorate.  As  to  the  rest,  he  had  neither  the  qualities 
which  make  dulness  respectable,  nor  the  qualities  which 
make  libertinism  attractive.  He  had  been  a  bad  son  and 
a  worse  father,  an  unfaithful  husband  and  an  ungraceful 
lover.  Not  one  magnanimous  or  humane  action  is  re- 
corded of  him ;  but  man.y  instances  of  meanness  and  of 
a  harshness  which,  but  for  the  strong  constitutional  re- 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  111 

straints  under  which  he  was  phiced,  might  have  made  the 
misery  of  his  people. 

He  died ;  and  at  once  a  new  world  opened.  The  young 
King  was  a  born  Englishman.  All  his  tastes  and  habits, 
good  or  bad,  were  English.  ISTo  portion  of  his  subjects 
had  anything  to  reproach  him  with.  Even  the  remaining 
adherents  of  the  House  of  Stuart  could  scarcely  impute 
to  him  the  guilt  of  usurpation.  He  was  not  responsible 
for  the  Revolution,  for  the  Act  of  Settlement,  for  the  sup- 
pression of  the  risings  of  1715  and  of  1745.  He  was  in- 
nocent of  the  blood  of  Derwentwatcr  and  Kilmarnock, 
of  Balmorino  and  Cameron.  Born  fifty  years  after  the 
old-line  had  been  expelled,  fourth  in  descent  and  third 
in  succession  of  the  Hanoverian  dynasty,  he  might  plead 
some  show  of  hereditary  right.  His  age,  his  appearance, 
and  all  that  was  known  of  his  character,  conciliated  public 
favor.  He  was  in  the  bloom  of  youth;  his  person  and  ad- 
dress were  pleasing.  Scandal  imputed  to  him  no  vice; 
and  flattery  might,  without  any  glaring  absurdity,  ascribe 
to  him  many  princely  virtues. 

It  is  not  strange,  tbcrcfore,  that  the  sentiment  of  loyalty, 
a  sentiment  which  had  lately  seemed  to  be  as  much  out 
of  date  as  the  belief  in  witches  or  the  practise  of  pilgrim- 
age, should,  from  the  day  of  his  accession,  have  begun  to 
revive.  The  Tories  in  particular,  who  had  always  been 
inclined  to  King-worsliip,  and  who  had  long  felt  with  pain 
the  want  of  an  idol  before  whom  tliey  could  bow  them- 
selves down,  were  as  joyful  as  the  priests  of  Apis,*  when, 
after  a  long  interval,  they  found  a  new  calf  to  adore.  It 
was  .soon  dear  that  Ceorge  the  Tliird  was  regarded  by  a 
liortion  of  the  nation  with  a  very  dilTerent  feeling  from 
tbat  which  his  two  jiredeeessors  had  inspired.  Tliey  had 
been  merely  first  .Magistrates,  Doges,  Stadtlmlders ;  be  was 
cinpbatically  a  King,  the  anointed  of  heaven,  liu'  breath 
of  liis  people's  nostrils.  Tlie  years  of  the  widowliood  and 
mourning  of  tbe  Tory  i)arty  were  over.  Dido  had  kej)! 
faith  long  enough  to  the  cold  ashes  of  a  former  lord ;  she 
had  at  last  found  a  comforter,  and  reeogni/ed  Ibe  vestiges 
of  the  old  flame.  The  golden  days  of  liarley  would  return. 
The  Somersets,  the  Lees,  and  the  Wyndhaifts  would  again 

•  Apis  wan  an  Idol  In  Ih.-  form  of  a  bull,  the  aacred  emblem  of 
Osiris.   wor«hlp|><d   by  the  unclfiit   Kgyptlans. 


112  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

surround  the  throuc.  The  latitudinarian  Prohates,  who 
had  not  been  ashanu'd  to  correspond  witli  Doddridge  and 
to  shake  hands  with  Whiston,  would  be  succeeded  by 
divines  of  the  temper  of  South  and  Atterbury.  The  de- 
votion whicli  hail  been  so  signally  shown  to  the  House  of 
Stuart,  which  had  been  proof  against  defeats,  confisca- 
tions, and  proscriptions,  which  perfidy,  oppression,  ingrati- 
tude, could  not  weary  out,  was  now  transferred  entire  to 
the  House  of  Brunswick.  If  (ieorge  the  Third  would  but 
accept  the  homage  of  the  Cavaliers  and  High  Church- 
men, he  should  be  to  them  all  that  Charles  the  First  and 
Charles  the  Second  had  been. 

The  Prince,  whose  accession  was  thus  hailed  by  a  great 
party  long  estranged  from  his  house,  had  received  from 
nature  a  strong  will,  a  firmness  of  temper  to  which  a 
harsher  name  might  perhaps  be  given,  and  an  understand- 
ing not,  indeed,  acute  or  enlarged,  but  such  as  qualified 
him  to  be  a  good  man  of  business.  But  his  character  had 
not  yet  fully  developed  itself.  He  had  been  brought  up 
in  strict  seclusion.  The  detractors  of  the  Princess 
Dowager  of  Wales  afiirmed  that  she  had  kept  her  children 
from  commerce  with  society,  in  order  that  she  might  hold 
an  undivided  empire  over  their  minds.  She  gave  a  very 
dilferent  explanation  of  her  conduct.  She  would  gladly, 
she  said,  see  her  sons  and  daughters  mix  in  the  world,  if 
they  could  do  so  without  risk  to  their  morals.  But  the 
profligacy  of  the  people  of  quality  alarmed  her.  The 
young  men  were  all  rakes;  the  young  women  made  love, 
instead  of  waiting  till  it  was  made  to  them.  She  could 
not  bear  to  expose  those  whom  she  loved  best  to  the  con- 
taminating influence  of  such  society.  The  moral  advan- 
tages of  the  system  of  education  which  formed  the  Duke 
of  York,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  and  the  Queen  of 
Denmark,  may  perhaps  be  questioned.  George  the  Third 
was  indeed  no  libertine;  but  he  brought  to  the  throne  a 
mind  only  half  opened,  and  was  for  some  time  entirely 
under  the  influence  of  his  mother  and  of  his  Groom  of 
the  Stole,  John  Stuart,  Earl  of  Bute. 

The  Earl  of  Bute  was  scarcely  known,  even  by  name,  to 
the  country  \<']iich  he  was  soon  to  govern.  He  had  in- 
deed, a  short  time  after  he  came  of  age,  been  chosen  to  fill 
a  vacancy  which,  in  the  middle  of  a  parliament,  had  taken 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  113 

place  among  the  Scotch  representative  peers.  He  had  dis- 
obliged the  Whig  ministers  by  giving  some  silent  votes 
with  the  Tories,  and  consequently  lost  his  seat  at  the  next 
dissolution,  and  had  never  been  reelected.  Near  twenty 
years  had  elapsed  since  he  had  borne  any  part  in  politics. 
He  had  passed  some  of  those  years  at  his  seat  in  one  of 
the  Hebrides,  and  from  that  retirement  he  had  emerged 
as  one  of  the  household  of  Prince  Frederic.  Lord  Bute, 
excluded  from  public  life,  had  found  out  many  ways  of 
amusing  his  leisure.  He  Avas  a  tolerable  actor  in  private 
theatricals,  and  was  particularly  successful  in  the  part  of 
Lothario.  A  handsome  leg.  to  which  both  painters  and 
satirists  took  care  to  give  prominence,  was  among  his  chief 
(Jtialifications  for  the  stage.  He  devised  quaint  dresses 
for  masquerades.  He  dabbled  in  geometry,  mechanics, 
and  botany.  He  paid  some  attention  to  antiquities  and 
works  of  art.  and  was  considered  in  his  own  circle  as  a 
judge  of  painting,  architecture,  and  poetry.  It  is  said 
that  his  spelling  was  incorrect.  But  though,  in  our  time, 
incorrect  spelling  is  justly  considered  as  a  proof  of  sordid 
ignorance,  it  would  be  unjust  to  apply  the  same  rule 
to  peojile  wlio  lived  a  century  ago.  The  novel  of  Sir 
Charles  Grandison  *  was  pul)lished  about  the  time  at  which 
Lord  Bute  made  his  appearance  at  Leicester  House.  Our 
readers  may  pcrhai)S  remember  the  account  which  Char- 
lotte Orandison  gives  of  her  two  lovers.  One  of  them,  a 
fashionable  baronet  wlio  talks  French  and  Italian  fluently, 
cannot  write  a  line  in  bis  (twn  language  without  some  sin 
against  ortbograiiliy ;  the  other,  wbo  is  represented  as  a 
most  respectable  .specimen  of  the  young  aristocracy,  and 
something  of  a  virtnosf),  is  described  as  spelling  pretty 
well  for  a  lord.  On  the  whole,  the  Earl  of  liiite  might 
fairly  be  callerl  a  man  of  cultivated  mind.  He  was  also 
a  man  of  undf>ubted  honor.  But  his  understatirling  was 
narrow,  and  his  manners  cold  and  baugbly.  1 1  is  (juali- 
fications  for  the  part  of  a  statesman  were  Itest  described 
by  Frederic.  wIk)  often  indulged  in  the  unprineely  luxury 
of  sneering  at  his  dependents.  "I»ute,''  said  his  Iloyal 
Highness,  "you  are  the  very  man  to  be  envoy  nt  some 
small  proud  fJerman  court  where  there  is  nothing  to  do." 

♦  sir   fharlOB   OrandlBon    Ih    the    iianio   of    a    novel    by    HIchardBon, 
pubUshfd   In   1753. 


114  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Scandal  represented  the  Groom  of  the  Stole  as  the  fa- 
vored lover  of  the  Princess  Dowager.  He  was  undoubtedly 
her  confidential  friend.  The  influence  which  the  two 
united  exercised  over  the  mind  of  the  King  was  for  a  time 
unbounded.  The  Princess,  a  woman  and  a  foreigner,  was 
not  likely  to  be  a  judicious  adviser  about  affairs  of  state. 
The  Earl  could  scarcely  be  said  to  have  served  even  a 
novitiate  in  politics.  His  notions  of  government  had 
been  acquired  in  the  society  which  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  assembling  round  Frederic;  at  Kew  and  Leicester 
House.  That  society  consisted  principally  of  Tories,  who 
had  been  reconciled  to  the  House  of  Hanover  by  the  civil- 
ity with  which  the  Prince  had  treated  them,  and  by  the 
hope  of  obtaining  high  preferment  when  he  should  come 
to  the  throne.  Their  political  creed  was  a  peculiar  modi- 
fication of  Toryism.  It  was  the  creed  neither  of  the 
Tories  of  the  seventeenth  nor  of  the  Tories  of  the  nine- 
teenth century ;  it  was  the  creed,  not  of  Filmer  and 
Sacheverell,  not  of  Perceval  and  Eldon,  but  of  the  sect  of 
which  Bolingbroke  may  be  considered  as  the  chief  doctor. 
This  sect  deserves  commendation  for  having  pointed  out 
and  justly  reprobated  some  great  abuses  which  sprang  up 
during  the  long  domination  of  the  Whigs.  But  it  is  far 
easier  to  point  out  and  reprobate  abuses  than  to  propose 
beneficial  reforms:  and  the  reforms  which  Bolingbroke 
proposed  would  either  have  been  utterly  inefficient,  or 
would  have  produced  much  more  mischief  than  they  would 
have  removed. 

The  Revolution  had  saved  the  nation  from  one  class  of 
evils,  but  had  at  the  same  time — such  is  the  imperfection 
of  all  things  hunuxn — engendered  or  aggravated  another 
class  of  evils  which  required  new  remedies.  Liberty  and 
property  were  secure  from  the  attacks  of  prerogative. 
Conscience  was  respected.  No  government  ventured  to  in- 
fringe any  of  the  rights  solemnly  recognized  by  the  instru- 
ment which  had  calU'd  William  and  Mary  to  the  throne. 
But  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  under  the  new  system,  the 
public  interests  and  the  public  morals  were  seriously  en- 
dangered by  corruption  and  faction.  During  the  long 
struggle  against  the  Stuarts,  the  chief  object  of  the  most 
enlightened  statesmen  had  been  to  strengthen  the  House 
of   Commons.     The  struggle  was   over;    the   victory   wa* 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  115 

■won;  the  House  of  Commons  was  supreme  in  the  state; 
and  all  the  vices  which  had  till  then  been  latent  in  the 
representative  system  were  rapidly  developed  by  prosperity 
and  power.  Scarcely  had  the  executive  government  be- 
come really  responsible  to  the  House  of  Commons,  when 
it  began  to  appear  that  the  House  of  Commons  was  not 
really  responsible  to  the  nation.  Many  of  the  constituent 
bodies  were  under  the  absolute  control  of  individuals; 
many  were  notoriously  at  the  command  of  the  highest 
bidder.  The  debates  were  not  published.  It  was  very  sel- 
dom known  out  of  doors  how  a  gentleman  had  voted. 
Thus,  while  the  ministry  was  accountable  to  the  Parlia- 
rtieht,  the  majority  of  the  Parliament  was  accountable  to 
nobody.  Under  such  circumstances,  nothing  could  be 
more  natural  than  that  the  members  should  insist  on  being 
paid  for  their  votes,  should  form  themselves  into  combina- 
tions for  the  purpose  of  raising  the  price  of  their  votes, 
and  should  at  critical  conjunctures  extort  large  wages  by 
threatening  a  strike.  Thus  the  Whig  ministers  of  George 
the  First  and  George  the  Second  were  compelled  to  reduce 
corruption  to  a  system,  and  to  practice  it  on  a  gigantic 
scale. 

If  we  are  right  as  to  the  cause  of  these  abuses,  we  can 
scarcely  be  wrong  as  to  the  remedy.  The  remedy  was 
surely  not  to  deprive  the  House  of  Commons  of  its  weight 
in  the  state.  Such  a  course  would  undoubtedly  have  put 
an  end  to  parliamentary  corruption  and  to  parliamentary 
factions:  for,  when  votes  cease  to  be  of  importance,  they 
will  cease  to  be  bought;  and,  when  knaves  can  get  nothing 
l)y  coml)ining,  they  will  cease  to  combine.  Put  to  destroy 
corruption  and  faction  by  introducing  despotism  would 
have  been  to  cure  bad  I)y  worse.  The  proper  remedy  evi- 
dently was,  to  make  the  House  of  Commons  responsible  to 
the  nation;  and  this  was  to  be  effected  in  two  ways;  first, 
by  giving  piil)]ifity  to  parliamentary  proceedings,  and  thus 
placing  every  member  f>n  bis  trial  before  tbe  tribunal  of 
public  opinion;  and  secondly,  by  so  refortniiig  tbe  consti- 
tution of  the  House  tliat  no  man  should  be  able  to  sit  in  it 
wbo  had  not  been  returned  Ity  a  resjiectable  and  indepen- 
dent body  of  constituents. 

Poliiifrliroke  and  T^oliiifrbroke's  diseiples  recommended  a 
very  different  mode  of  treating  the  diseases  of  tlie  state. 


116  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Their  doctrine  was,  that  a  vijiorous  use  of  the  prerogative 
by  a  patriot  King  would  at  once  break  all  factious  combi- 
nations, and  supersede  the  pretended  necessity  of  bribing 
members  of  Parliam(Mit.  The  King  had  only  to  resolve 
that  he  would  be  master,  that  he  would  not  be  held  in 
thraldom  by  any  set  of  men,  that  he  would  take  for  min- 
isters any  persons  in  whom  he  had  confidence,  without 
distinction  of  party,  and  that  he  would  restrain  his  ser- 
vants from  influencing  by  immoral  means,  either  the  con- 
stituent bodies  or  the  representative  body.  This  childish 
scheme  proved  that  those  who  proposed  it  knew  nothing 
of  the  nature  of  the  evil  with  which  they  pretended  to  deal. 
The  real  cause  of  the  prevalence  of  corruption  and  faction 
was  that  a  House  of  Commons,  not  accountable  to  the 
people,  was  more  powerful  than  the  King.  Bolingbroke's 
remedy  could  be  applied  only  by  a  King  more  powerful 
than  the  House  of  Commons.  How  was  the  patriot  Prince 
to  govern  in  defiance  of  the  body  without  whose  consent 
he  could  not  equip  a  sloop,  keep  a  battalion  under  arms, 
send  an  embassy,  or  defray  even  the  charges  of  his  own 
househoUH  Was  he  to  dissolve  the  Parliament?  And 
what  was  he  likely  to  gain  by  appealing  to  Sudbury  and 
Old  Sarum  against  the  venality  of  their  representatives? 
Was  he  to  send  out  privy  seals?  Was  he  to  levy  ship- 
money?  If  so,  this  boasted  reform  must  commence  in  all 
probability  by  civil  war,  and,  if  consummated,  must  V)e 
consunnnated  by  the  establishment  of  absolute  monarchy. 
Or  was  the  patriot  King  to  carry  the  House  of  Commons 
with  him  in  his  upright  designs?  By  what  means?  Inter- 
dicting himself  from  the  use  of  corrui)t  influence,  what 
motive  was  he  to  address  to  the  Dodringtons  and  Wilming- 
tons?  Was  cupidity,  strengthened  by  habit,  to  be  laid 
asleep  by  a  few  fine  sentences  about  virtue  and  union? 

Absurd  as  this  theory  was,  it  had  many  admirers,  partic- 
ularly among  men  of  letters.  It  was  now  to  be  reduced  to 
practice;  and  the  result  was,  as  any  man  of  sagacity  must 
have  foreseen,  the  most  piteous  and  ridiculous  of  failures. 

On  the  very  day  of  the  young  King's  accession,  ap- 
peared some  signs  which  indicated  the  approach  of  a  great 
change.  The  speech  which  he  nuide  to  his  council  was  not 
submitted  to  the  cabinet.  It  was  drawn  up  by  Bute,  and 
contained   some   expressions    which    might   be   construed 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  117 

into  reflections  on  the  conduct  of  affairs  during  the  late 
reign.  Pitt  remonstrated  and  begged  that  these  ejcpres- 
sions  might  be  softened  down  in  the  printed  copy;  but 
it  was  not  till  after  some  hours  of  altercation  that  Bute 
yielded;  and,  even  after  Bute  had  yielded,  the  King 
affected  to  hold  out  till  the  following  afternoon.  On  the 
same  day  on  which  the  singular  contest  took  place,  Bute 
was  not  only  sworn  of  the  pri^^y  council,  but  introduced 
into  the  Cabinet. 

Soon  after  this  Lord  Holdernesse,  one  of  the  Secretaries 
of  State,  in  pursuance  of  a  plan  concerted  with  the  court, 
resigned  the  seals.  Bute  was  instantly  appointed  to  the 
vacant  place.  A  general  election  speedily  followed,  and 
the  new  Secretary  entered  parliament  in  the  only  way  in 
which  he  then  could  enter  it,  as  one  of  the  sixteen  repre- 
sentative peers  of  Scotland.* 

Had  the  ministers  been  firmly  united  it  can  scarcely 
be  doubted  that  they  would  have  been  able  to  withstand 
the  court.  The  parliamentary  influence  of  the  Whig 
aristocracy,  combined  with  the  genius,  the  virtue,  and  the 
fame  of  Pitt,  would  have  been  irresistible.  But  there  had 
been  in  the  caliinet  of  George  the  Second  latent  jealousies 
and  enmities,  which  now  l)egan  to  show  themselves.  Pitt 
had  been  estranged  from  his  old  ally  Legge,  the  Chancel- 
lor of  the  E.\che(iuer.  Some  of  the  ministers  were  envious 
of  Pitt's  popularity.  Others  were,  not  altogether  without 
cause,  disgusted  by  his  imperious  and  haughty  demeanor. 
Others,  again,  were  hojiestjy  opposed  to  some  parts  of  his 
policy.  They  admitted  that  lie  had  found  the  country  in 
the  depths  of  humiliation,  and  had  raised  it  to  the  height 
of  glory;  they  admitted  that  he  had  conducted  the  war 
with  energy,  al)ility,  and  splendid  success.  lint  they  began 
to  hint  that  the  drain  on  the  resources  of  the  state  was 
imexampled,  and  that  the  public  debt  was  increasing  with 
a  spci'd  at  wliidi  Montague  or  (Jodolpliin  wrmld  have  stood 
aghast.  Some  of  the  acquisitions  made  by  our  fleets  and 
armies  were,  it  was  aeknowledged,  profitable  as  well  as 
honorable;  but,  now  that  (Jeorge  the  Second  was  dead,  a 
courtier  might  venture  to  ask  why  England  was  to  become 

•  In  tho  rflKn  of  Antif.  the  IlnuHc  of  Kordn  lind  roBolvMl  that, 
under  the  2.''.fl  iirflclf-  of  I'nion,  no  Scotch  pfcr  codid  bf  crcntcd  a 
peer  of  fJreat  Ilrltaln.  Thia  rosolutlon  wuh  not  uunullcd  tUl  the 
year    1782.      (Author.) 


11<S  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

a  party  in  dispute  between  two  German  powers.  What 
was  it  to  her  wliether  the  House  of  Hapsburg  or  the  House 
of  Brandoiiburfr  ruled  in  Sil(>sia?  Why  were  the  best 
English  regiments  figlitiiig  on  tlie  Main?  Why  were  the 
Prussian  battalions  paid  with  English  gold?  The  great 
minister  seemed  to  think  it  beneath  him  to  calculate  the 
price  of  victory.  As  long  as  the  Tower  guns  were  fired, 
as  the  streets  were  illuminated,  as  French  banners  were 
carried  in  triumph  through  London,  it  was  to  him  matter 
of  indifference  to  what  extent  the  iniblic  burdens  were 
augmented.  Nay,  he  seemed  to  glory  in  the  magnitude 
of  those  sacrifices  which  the  people,  fascinated  by  his 
eloquence  and  success,  had  too  readily  made,  and  would 
long  and  bitterly  regret.  There  was  no  check  on  waste  or 
embezzlement.  Our  commissaries  returned  from  the  camp 
of  Prince  Ferdinand  to  buy  boroughs,  to  rear  palaces,  to 
rival  the  magnificence  of  the  old  aristocracy  of  the  realm. 
Already  had  we  borrowed,  in  four  years  of  war,  more  than 
the  most  skilful  and  economical  government  would  pay  in 
forty  years  of  peace.  But  the  prospect  of  peace  was  as 
remote  as  ever.  It  could  not  be  doubted  that  France, 
smarting  and  prostrate,  would  consent  to  fair  terms  of 
accommodation ;  but  this  was  not  what  Pitt  wanted.  War 
had  made  him  powerfid  and  popidar;  with  war,  all  that 
was  brightest  in  his  life  was  associated:  for  war  his 
talents  were  peculiarly  fitted.  He  had  at  length  begun 
to  love  war  for  its  own  sake,  and  was  more  disposed 
to  quarrel  with  neutrals  than  to  make  peace  with 
enemies. 

Such  were  the  views  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford  and  of  the 
Earl  of  Hardwicke;  but  no  member  of  the  government 
held  these  opinions  so  strongly  as  George  Grenville,  the 
treasurer  of  the  navy.  George  Grenville  was  brother-in- 
law  of  Pitt,  and  had  always  been  reckoned  one  of  Pitt's 
personal  and  political  friends.  But  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive two  men  of  talents  and  integrity  more  iittely  unlike 
each  other.  Pitt,  as  his  sister  often  said,  knew  nothing 
accurately  except  Spenser's  Faerie  Queen.  He  had  never 
applied  himself  steadily  to  any  branch  of  knowledge.  He 
was  a  wretched  financier.  He  never  became  familiar  even 
with  the  rules  of  that  House  of  which  he  was  the  brightest 
ornament.    He  had  never  studied  public  law  as  a  system;. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  119 

and  was,  indeed,  so  ignorant  of  the  whole  subject,  that 
George  the  Second,  on  one  occasion,  comphiined  bitterly 
that  a  man  who  had  never  read  Vattel  should  presume  to 
undertake  the  direction  of  foreign  affairs.  But  these 
defects  were  more  than  redeemed  by  high  and  rare  gifts, 
by  a  strange  power  of  inspiring  great  masses  of  men  with 
confidence  and  affection,  by  an  eloquence  which  not  only 
delighted  the  ear,  but  stirred  the  blood,  and  brought  tears 
into  the  eyes,  by  originality  in  devising  plans,  by  vigor 
in  executing  them.  Grenvillo.  on  the  other  hand,  was  by 
nature  and  habit  a  man  of  details.  He  had  been  bred  a 
lawj'er;  and  he  had  brought  the  industry  and  acuteness 
o£,  the  Temple  into  official  and  parliamentary  life.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with  the  whole 
fiscal  system  of  the  country.  He  had  paid  especial  atten- 
tion to  the  law  of  Parliament,  and  was  so  learned  in  all 
things  relating  to  the  privileges  and  orders  of  the  House 
of  Commons  that  those  who  loved  him  least  pronounced 
hi  in  the  only  person  conii)otent  to  succeed  Onslow  in  the 
Chair.  His  speeches  were  generally  instructive,  and 
sometimes,  from  the  gravity  and  earnestness  with  which 
he  spoke,  even  impressive,  Init  never  brilliant,  and  gen- 
erally tedious.  Indeed,  even  when  ho  was  at  the  head  of 
affairs,  he  sometimes  found  it  ilifficult  to  obtain  the  ear 
of  the  House.  In  disposition  as  well  as  in  intellect,  he 
differed  widely  from  his  l)rother-in-law.  Pitt  was  utterly 
regardless  of  money.  He  would  scarcely  stretch  out  his 
liMTid  to  take  it;  and,  when  it  came,  he  threw  it  away 
with  childish  profusion.  (Jrenville,  though  strictly  up- 
right, was  grasping  and  i)arsimonious.  Pitt  was  a  man  of 
excitable  nerves,  sanguine  in  hope,  easily  elated  by  suc- 
cess and  popularity,  keenly  sensil)le  of  injury,  but  prompt 
to  forgive;  f Jrenvillc's  character  was  stern,  inchinclioly, 
and  pertinacious.  Nothing  was  more  remarkable  in  him 
than  his  inclination  always  to  look  on  the  dark  side  of 
things.  He  was  tlie  raven  of  the  House  of  C%)ininons, 
always  croaking  defeat  in  the  midst  of  triiinii)lis,  nnd 
bankruptcy  witli  an  overfbiwing  exchequer.  Purkc,  with 
general  applause,  cdnipured  him,  in  a  time  of  quiet 
and  i)lenty,  to  the  evil  si)irit  whom  Ovid  described  looking 
down  on  the  stately  tetiq)l(-i  ;ind  wc.dthy  haven  of  Athens. 
and    scarce   able   to    refrain    from    weeping    because   she 


120  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

could  find  nothing:  at  which  to  weep.  Such  a  man  was 
not  likely  to  be  popular.  But  to  unpopularity  Grenville 
opposed  a  dogged  determination,  which  sometimes  forced 
even  those  who  hated  him  to  respect  him. 

It  was  natural  that  Pitt  and  Grenville,  being  such  as 
they  were,  should  take  very  different  views  of  the  situa- 
tion of  affairs.  Pitt  could  see  nothing  but  the  trophies; 
Grenvillo  could  see  nothing  but  the  bill.  Pitt  boasted 
that  England  was  victorious  at  once  in  America,  in  India, 
and  in  Germany,  the  umpire  of  the  Continent,  the  mis- 
tress of  the  sea.  Grenville  cast  up  the  subsidies,  sighed 
over  the  army  extraordinarics,  and  groaned  in  spirit  to 
think  that  the  nation  had  borrowed  eight  millions  in  one 
year. 

With  a  ministry  thus  divided  it  was  not  difficult  for 
Bute  to  deal.  Legge  was  the  first  who  fell.  He  had  given 
offense  to  the  young  King  in  the  late  reign,  by  refusing 
to  support  a  creature  of  Bute  at  a  Hampshire  election. 
He  was  now  not  only  turned  out,  but  in  the  closet,  when 
he  delivered  up  his  seal  of  office,  was  treated  with  gross 
incivility. 

Pitt,  who  did  not  love  Legge,  saw  this  event  with  in- 
difference.     But  the   danger   was    now   fast   approaching 
himself.     Charles  the  Third  of  Spain  had  early  conceived 
a  deadly  hatred  of  England.     Twenty  years  before,  when 
he  was  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies,  he  had  been  eager  to 
join  the  coalition  against  Maria  Theresa.     But  an  Eng- 
lish fleet  had  suddenly  appeared  in   the  Bay  of  Naples. 
An   English    captain    had    landed,   had    proceeded    to    the 
palace,  had  laid  a  watch  on  the  table,  and  had  told  his 
majesty  that,  within  an  ho\ir,  a  treaty  of  neutrality  must 
be   signed,    or    a    bombardment    would    commence.      The 
treaty  was  signed;  the  squadron  sailed  out  of  the  bay 
twenty-four  hours  after  it  had  sailed  in;  and  from  that 
day  tiie  ruling  passion  of  the  humbled  Prince  was  aversion 
to  the  English  name.     He  was  at  length  in  a  situation 
in  which  he  might  hope  to  gratify  that  passion.     He  had 
recently  become  King  of  Sjjain  and  the  Indies.     He  saw, 
with  envy  and  apprehension,  the  triumphs  of  our  navy, 
and  the  rapid  extension  of  (uir  colonial  Empire.     He  was 
a    Bourbon,    and    sympathized    with    tbe    distress    of    the 
house  from  which  he  sprang.     He  was  a  Spaniard;  and 


THE  EAKL  OF  CHATHAM  121 

no  Spaniard  could  bear  to  see  Gibraltar  and  Minorca  in 
the  possession  of  a  foreign  power.  Impelled  by  such  feel- 
ings, Charles  concluded  a  secret  treaty  with  France.  By 
this  treaty,  known  as  the  Family  Compact,  the  two  powers 
bound  themselves,  not  in  express  words,  but  by  the  clearest 
implication,  to  make  war  on  England  in  common.  Spain 
postponed  the  declaration  of  hostilities  only  till  her  fleet, 
laden  with  the  treasures  of  America,  should  have  arrived. 

The  existence  of  the  treaty  could  not  be  kept  a  secret 
from  Pitt.  He  acted  as  a  man  of  his  capacity  and  energy 
might  be  expected  to  act.  He  at  once  proposed  to  declare 
war  against  Spain,  and  to  intercept  the  American  fleet. 
He  jiad  determined,  it  is  said,  to  attack  without  delay  both 
Havana  and  the  Philippines. 

His  wise  and  resolute  counsel  was  rejected.  Bute  was 
foremost  in  opposing  it,  and  was  supported  by  almost 
the  whole  cabinet.  Some  of  the  ministers  doubted,  or 
affected  to  doubt,  the  correctness  of  Pitt's  intelligence; 
some  shrank  from  tbe  responsibility  of  advising  a  course 
so  bold  and  decided  as  that  which  he  proposed ;  some  were 
■weary  of  his  ascendency,  and  were  glad  to  be  rid  of  him 
on  any  pretext.  One  only  of  his  colleagues  agreed  with 
him,  his  brotber-in-law,  Earl  Temple. 

Pitt  and  Temple  resigned  their  offices.  To  Pitt  the 
young  King  behaved  at  parting  in  the  most  gracious  man- 
ner. Pitt,  who,  proud  and  fiery  everywhere  else,  was 
always  meek  and  bumble  in  the  closet,  was  moved  even  to 
tears.  The  King  and  the  favorite  urged  him  to  accept 
some  substantial  mark  of  royal  gratitude.  Would  he  like 
to  be  appointed  governor  of  Canada?  A  salary  of  Ave 
thousand  pounds  a  year  should  be  annexed  to  tbe  office. 
Residence  would  not  be  required.  It  was  true  that  the 
governor  of  Canada,  as  the  law  then  stood,  could  not  be 
a  memljor  of  the  Hf)use  of  Commons,  lint  a  bill  should 
be  brought  in,  autlujriziiig  Pitt  to  hold  his  government 
together  with  a  seat  in  Parliament,  and  in  the  preamble 
should  be  set  forth  his  claims  to  the  gratitude  of  his 
country'.  Pitt  answered,  with  all  delieacy,  that  his 
anxieties  were  rather  for  his  wife  and  family  than  for 
himself,  find  that  nothing  woulr]  be  so  aeecptaiile  to  him 
as  a  mark  r>f  royal  goodness  whii'h  might  be  beneficial  to 
those  who  were  dearest  to  him.     The  hint  was  taken.   The 


122  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

same  Gazette  which  aiiiiounced  the  retirement  of  the  Sec- 
retary of  State  announced  also  that,  in  consideration  of 
his  great  public  services,  his  wife  had  been  created  a 
peeress  in  her  own  right,  and  that  a  pension  of  three 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  for  three  lives,  had  been  be- 
stowed on  himself.  It  was  doubtless  thought  that  the 
rewards  and  honors  conferred  on  the  great  minister  would 
have  a  conciliatory  eifect  on  the  public  mind.  Perhaps, 
too,  it  was  thought  that  his  popularity,  which  had  partly 
arisen  from  the  contempt  which  he  had  always  shown 
for  money,  would  be  damaged  by  a  pension ;  and,  indeed, 
a  crowd  of  libels  instantly  apjicared,  in  which  he  was 
accused  of  having  sold  his  country.  Many  of  his  true 
friends  thought  that  he  would  have  best  consulted  the 
dignity  of  his  character  by  refusing  to  accept  any  pe- 
cuniary reward  from  the  court.  Nevertheless,  the  general 
opinion  of  his  talents,  virtues,  and  services  remained 
unaltered.  Addresses  were  presented  to  him  from  several 
large  towns.  London  showed  its  admiration  and  affection 
in  a  still  more  marked  manner.  Soon  after  his  resigna- 
tion came  the  Lord  Mayor's  day.  The  King  and  the  royal 
family  dined  at  Guildhall.  Pitt  was  one  of  the  guests. 
The  young  sovereign,  seated  by  his  bride  in  his  state 
coach,  received  a  remarkable  lesson.  He  was  scarcely 
noticed.  All  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  fallen  minister;  all 
acclamations  directed  to  him.  The  streets,  the  balconies, 
the  chimney  tops,  burst  into  a  roar  of  delight  as  his 
chariot  passed  by.  The  ladies  waved  handkerchiefs  from 
the  windows.  The  conniiou  people  clung  to  the  wheels,, 
shook  hands  with  the  footmen,  and  even  kissed  the  horses. 
Cries  of  "No  Bute!"  "Xo  Newcastle  salmon!"  were 
mingled  with  the  shouts  of  "Pitt  forever!"  When  Pitt 
entered  Guildhall,  he  was  welcomed  by  loud  huzzas  and 
clapping  of  hands,  in  which  the  very  magistrates  of  the 
city  joined.  Lord  Bute,  in  the  mean  time,  was  hooted 
and  pelted  through  Cheapside,  and  would,  it  was  thought, 
have  been  in  some  danger,  if  he  had  not  taken  the  precau- 
tion of  surrounding  his  carriage  with  a  strong  body  guard 
of  boxers.  Many  persons  blame  the  conduct  of  Pitt  on 
this  occasion  as  disrespectful  to  the  King.  Indeed,  Pitt 
himself  afterward  owned  that  he  had  done  wrong.  He 
was  led  into  this  error,  as  he  was  afterward  led  into  more 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  123 

serious  errors,  by  the  influence  of  his  turbulent  and  mis- 
chievous brother-in-law,  Temjile. 

The  events  which  immediately  followed  Pitt's  retire- 
ment raised  his  fame  higher  than  ever.  War  with  Spain 
proved  to  be,  as  he  had  predicted,  inevitable.  News  came 
from  the  West  Indies  that  Martinique  had  been  taken 
by  an  expedition  which  he  had  sent  forth.  Havana  fell; 
and  it  was  known  that  he  had  planned  an  attack  on 
Havana.  Manila  capitulated ;  and  it  was  believed  that 
he  had  meditated  a  blow  against  Manila.  The  American 
fleet,  which  he  had  projiosed  to  intercept,  had  unloaded 
an  immense  cargo  of  bullion  in  the  haven  of  Cadiz,  before 
B'ute  could  be  convinced  that  the  court  of  Madrid  really 
entertained  hostile  intentions. 

The  session  of  Parliament  which  followed  Pitt's  retire- 
ment passed  over  without  any  violent  storm.  Lord  Bute 
took  on  himself  the  most  prominent  part  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  He  had  become  Secretary  of  State,  and  indeed 
prime  minister,  without  having  once  opened  his  lips  in 
public  except  as  an  actor.  There  was,  therefore,  no  small 
curiosity  to  know  how  he  would  acquit  himself.  Mem- 
bers of  the  House  of  Commons  crowded  the  bar  of  the 
Lords,  and  covered  the  steps  of  the  throne.  It  was  gen- 
erally expected  that  the  orator  would  break  down ;  but 
his  most  malicious  hearers  were  forced  to  own  that  he 
had  made  a  better  figure  than  they  expected.  They,  in- 
deed, ridiculed  his  action  as  theatrical,  and  his  style  as 
tumid.  They  were  especially  amused  by  the  long  pauses 
which,  nf)t  from  hesitation,  but  from  afFeetatioii,  he  made 
at  all  the  emphatic  words,  and  Charh'S  Towusheiid  cried 
out,  "Minute  guns!"  The  general  opinion  however  was, 
that,  if  liiite  had  been  early  practised  in  debate,  he  might 
liave  become  an  impressive  speaker. 

In  the  Commons,  CJcorge  (Jreiiville  had  been  intrusted 
with  th('  lead.  The  task  was  not,  as  yet,  a  very  diflicult 
one:  for  Pitt  did  not  think  fit  to  raise  the  standard  of 
Opposition.  His  speeches  at  this  time  were  distinguished, 
not  only  l)y  that  elf)(|uence  in  which  he  excelled  all  his 
rivals,  but  also  by  a  temperance  and  a  modesty  which 
had  too  often  been  wanting  to  his  character.  When  war 
was  declared  against  Spain,  he  justly  laid  claim  to  the 
merit  of  having  foreseen  what  had  at  length  become  inani- 


124  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

fest  to  all,  but  he  carefully  abstained  from  arrogant  and 
acrimonious  expressions;  and  this  abstinence  was  the 
more  honorable  to  him,  because  his  temper,  never  very 
placid,  was  now  severely  tried,  both  by  gout  and  by 
calumny.  The  courtiers  had  adopted  a  mode  of  warfare, 
which  was  soon  turned  with  far  more  formidable  effect 
against  themselves.  Half  the  inhabitants  of  the  Grub 
Street  garrets  paid  their  milk  scores  and  got  their  shirts 
out  of  pawn,  by  abusing  Pitt.  His  German  war,  his 
subsidies,  his  pension,  his  wife's  peerage,  were  shin  of 
beef  and  gin,  blankets  and  baskets  of  small  coal,  to  the 
starving  poetasters  of  the  Fleet.  Even  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  he  was,  on  one  occasion  during  this  session, 
assailed  with  an  insolence  and  malice  which  called  forth 
the  indignation  of  men  of  all  parties;  but  he  endured 
the  outrage  with  majestic  patience.  In  his  younger  days 
he  had  been  but  too  prompt  to  retaliate  on  those  who  at- 
tacked him ;  but  now,  conscious  of  his  great  services,  and 
of  the  space  which  he  filled  in  the  eyes  of  all  mankind, 
he  would  not  stoop  to  personal  squabbles.  "This  is  no 
season,"  he  said,  in  the  debate  on  the  Spanish  war,  "for 
altercation  and  recrimination.  A  day  has  arrived  when 
every  Englishman  should  stand  forth  for  his  country. 
Arm  the  whole;  be  one  people;  forget  everything  but  the 
public.  I  set  you  the  example.  Harassed  by  slanderers, 
sinking  under  pain  and  disease,  for  the  public  I  forget 
both  my  wrongs  and  my  infirmities!"  On  a  general  re- 
view of  his  life,  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  his  genius 
and  virtue  never  shone  with  so  pure  an  effulgence  as 
during  the  session  of  17^2. 

The  session  drew  towards  the  close;  and  Bute,  em- 
boldened by  the  acquiescence  of  the  Houses,  resolved 
to  strike  another  great  blow,  and  to  become  first  minister 
in  name  as  well  as  in  reality.  That  coalition,  which  a 
few  months  before  had  seemed  all  powerful,  had  been 
dissolved.  The  retreat  of  Pitt  had  deprived  the  govern- 
ment of  popularity.  Newcastle  had  exulted  in  the  fall  of 
the  illustrious  colleague  whom  he  envied  and  dreaded, 
and  had  not  foreseen  that  his  own  doom  was  at  hand. 
He  still  tried  to  flatter  himself  that  he  was  at  the  head 
of  the  government;  but  insults  heaped  on  insults  at  length 
undeceive^l  him.     Places  which  had  always  been  consid- 


THE  EAKL  OF  CHATHAM  125 

ered  as  in  his  gift,  were  bestowed  without  any  reference 
to  him.  His  expostulations  only  called  forth  significant 
hints  that  it  was  time  for  him  to  retire.  One  day  ho 
pressed  on  Bute  the  claini.s  of  a  Whig  Prelate  to  the 
Archbishopric  of  York.  ''If  your  grace  thinks  so  highly 
of  him,"  answered  Bute,  "I  wonder  that  you  did  not 
promote  him  when  you  had  the  power."  Still  the  old  man 
clung  with  a  desperate  grasp  to  the  wreck.  Seldom,  in- 
deed, have  Christian  meekness  and  Christian  humility 
equalled  the  meekness  and  humility  of  his  patient  and 
abject  ambition.  At  length  ho  was  forced  to  understand 
that  ajl  was  over.  He  quitt(>d  that  court  where  he  had 
held  high  office  during  forty-five  years,  and  hid  his  shame 
and  regret  among  the  cedars  of  Claremont.  Bute  became 
first  lord  of  the  treasury.  i 

The  favorite  had  undoubtedly  committed  a  great  error. 
It  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  tool  better  suited  to  his 
purposes  than  that  which  he  thus  threw  away,  or  rather 
put  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  If  Newcastle  had  been 
suffered  to  play  at  being  first  minister,  Bute  might  se- 
curely and  quietly  have  enjoyed  the  substance  of  power. 
The  gradual  introduction  of  Tories  into  all  the  depart- 
ments of  the  government  might  have  been  effected  with- 
out any  violent  clamor,  if  the  chief  of  the  great  Whig 
connection  had  been  ostensibly  at  the  head  of  affairs. 
This  was  strongly  represented  to  Bute  by  Lord  Mansfield, 
a  man  who  may  justly  be  called  tlie  father  of  modern 
Toryism,  of  Toryism  modified  to  suit  an  order  of  things 
under  whifh  the  House  of  Commons  is  the  most  powerful 
body  in  tlie  state.  The  theories  wliich  had  dazzled  ]5uto 
could  not  impose  on  the  fine  intellect  of  Mansfield.  The 
temerity  with  which  Bute  i)rovnkcd  the  hostility  of  pow- 
erful aiHJ  (l('ei)ly  rooted  intercHts,  was  displeasing  to 
Mansfield's  cold  and  timid  nature.  E.xpostulation,  how- 
ever, was  vain.  Bute  was  impatient  of  advice,  drunk 
with  success,  eager  to  be,  in  show  as  well  as  in  reality, 
the  head  of  the  government.  He  had  engaged  in  an 
undertaking  in  which  a  screen  was  absolutely  necc'ssary  to 
his  success,  and  even  to  his  safety.  He  found  an  excellent 
screen  ready  in  the  very  place  where  it  was  most  needed ; 
and  he  rudely  pushed  it  away. 

And  now  the  new  system  of  government  came  into  fnll 


126  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

operation.  For  the  first  time  since  the  accession  of  the 
House  of  Hanover,  the  Tory  party  was  in  the  ascendant. 
The  prime  minister  himself  was  a  Tory.  Lord  Egremont, 
who  had  succeeded  Pitt  as  Secretary  of  State,  was  a  Tory, 
and  the  son  of  a  Tory.  Sir  Francis  Daahwood,  a  man 
of  slender  parts,  of  small  experience,  and  of  notoriously 
immoral  character,  was  made  Chancellor  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, for  no  reason  that  could  be  imagined,  except 
that. he  was  a  Tory,  and  had  been  a  Jacobite.  The  royal 
household  was  filled  with  men  whose  favorite  toast,  a  few 
years  before,  had  been  the  King  over  the  water.  The 
relative  position  of  the  two  great  national  seats  of.  learn- 
ing was  suddenly  changed.  Tlie  university  of  Oxford 
had  long  been  the  chief  seat  of  disaffection.  In  troubled 
times,  the  High  Street  had  been  lined  with  bayonets;  the 
colleges  had  been  searched  by  the  King's  messengers. 
Grave  doctors  were  in  the  habit  of  talking  very  Ciceronian 
treason  in  the  theater;  and  the  undergraduates  drank 
bumpers  to  Jacobite  toasts,  and  chanted  Jacobite  airs. 
Of  four  successive  Chancellors  of  the  University,  one  had 
notoriously  been  in  the  Pretender's  service;  the  other 
three  were  fully  believed  to  be  in  secret  correspondence 
with  the  exiled  family.  Cambridge  had  therefore  been 
especially  favored  by  the  Hanoverian  Princes,  and  had 
shown  herself  grateful  for  their  patronage.  George  the 
First  had  enriched  her  library;  George  the  Second  had 
contributed  munificently  to  her  Senate  House.  Bishoprics 
and  deaneries  were  showered  on  her  children.  Her  Chan- 
cellor was  Newcastle,  the  chief  of  the  Whig  aristocracy; 
her  High  Steward  was  Hardwicke,  the  Whig  head  of  the 
law.  Both  her  burgesses  had  held  office  under  the  Whig 
ministry.  Times  had  now  changed.  The  University  of 
Canil^ridge  was  received  at  St.  James's  with  comparative 
coldness.  The  answers  to  the  addresses  of  Oxford  were 
all  graciousness  and  warmth. 

The  watchwords  of  the  new  government  were  preroga- 
tive and  purity.  The  sovereign  was  no  longer  to  be  a 
puppet  in  the  hands  of  any  subject,  or  of  any  combination 
of  subjects.  George  the  Third  would  not  be  forced  to 
take  ministers  whom  he  disliked,  as  his  grandfather  had 
been  forced  to  take  Pitt.  George  the  Third  would  not  be 
forced  to  part  with  any  whom  he  delighted  to  honor,  as 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  127 

his  grandfather  had  been  forced  to  part  with  Carteret. 
At  the  same  time,  the  system  of  bribery  which  had  grown 
up  during  the  kite  reigns  was  to  cease.  It  was  ostenta- 
tiously proclaimed  that,  since  the  accession  of  the  young 
King,  neither  constituents  nor  representatives  had  been 
bought  with  the  secret  ser\-ice  money.  To  free  Britain 
from  corruption  and  oligarchical  cabals,  to  detach  her 
from  continental  connections,  to  bring  the  bloody  and 
expensive  war  with  France  and  Spain  to  a  close,  such 
were  the  specious  objects  which  Bute  professed  to  pro- 
cure. 

Some  of  these  objects  he  attained.  England  withdrew, 
at^the  cost  of  a  deep  stain  on  her  faith,  from  her  German 
connections.  The  war  with  France  and  Spain  was  termi- 
nated by  a  peace,  honorable  indeed  and  advantageous  to 
our  country,  yet  less  honorable  and  less  advantageous 
than  might  have  been  expected  from  a  long  and  almost 
unbroken  series  of  victories,  by  land  and  sea,  in  every 
part  of  the  world.  But  the  only  effect  of  Bute's  domestic 
administration  was  to  make  faction  wilder,  and  corrup- 
tion fouler  than  ever. 

The  mutual  animosity  of  the  Whig  and  Tory  iiartics 
had  begun  to  languish  after  the  fall  of  Walpole,  and  had 
seemed  to  be  almost  extinct  at  the  close  of  the  reign  of 
George  the  Second.  It  now  revived  in  all  its  force. 
Many  Whigs,  it  is  true,  were  still  in  office.  The  Duke 
of  Bedford  had  signed  tbc  treaty  with  France.  The 
Duke  of  Devonshire,  though  iriuch  out  of  humor,  still 
continued  to  be  Lord  Chamberlain.  Grenville,  who  led 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  Fox,  who  still  enjoyed  in 
silence  the  immense  gains  of  the  Pay  Office,  had  always 
been  regarded  as  strong  Whigs.  But  the  bulk  of  the 
party  througliout  the  country  regarded  the  new  minister 
with  abhorreru-e.  There  was,  indeed,  no  want  of  popular 
themes  for  invective  against  his  character.  He  was  a 
favorite;  and  favorites  have  always  been  odious  in  this 
countrj'.  No  mere  favorite  had  been  at  the  head  of  the 
government  since  the  dagger  of  Felfon  had  reached  the, 
heart  of  the  Duke  of  Buckiiighaiu.  After  that  event  the 
most  arbitrary  and  the  most  frivolous  of  the  Stuarts  had 
felt  the  necessity  of  confiding  the  cliief  direction  f)f  affairs 
to  men  who  had  given  some  proof  of  parliamentary  official 


128  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

talent.  Strafford,  Falkland,  Clarendon,  Clifford,  Shaftes- 
bury, Lauderdale,  Danby,  Temple,  Halifax,  Rochester, 
Sunderland,  wliatevor  their  faults  mifrht  be,  were  all  men 
of  afl^nowledj^ad  ability.  They  did  not  owe  their  eminence 
merely  to  the  favor  of  the  sovereign.  On  the  contrary, 
they  owe<l  the  favor  of  the  sovereig'n  to  their  eminence. 
Most  of  them,  indeed,  had  first  attracted  the  notice  of  the 
court  by  the  capacity  and  vigor  which  they  had  shown 
rn  opposition.  The  Revolution  seemed  to  have  forever 
secured  the  state  against  the  domination  of  a  Carr  or  a 
Villiers.  Now,  however,  the  personal  regard  of  the  King 
had  at  once  raised  a  man  who  had  seen  nothing  of  public 
business,  who  had  never  opened  his  lips  in  Parliament, 
over  the  heads  of  a  crowd  of  eminent  orators,  financiers, 
diplomatists.  From  a  private  gentleman,  this  fortunate 
minion  had  at  once  been  turned  into  a  Secretary  of  State. 
He  had  made  his  maiden  speech  when  at  the  head  of  the 
administration.  The  vulgar  resorted  to  a  simple  explana- 
tion of  the  phenomenon,  and  the  coarsest  ribaldry  against 
the  Princess  Mother  was  scrawled  on  every  wall  and  sung 
in  every  alley. 

This  was  not  all.  The  spirit  of  party,  roused  by  impoli- 
tic provocation  from  its  long  sleep,  roused  in  turn  a  still 
fiercer  and  more  malignant  Fury,  the  spirit  of  national 
animosity.  The  grudge  of  Whig  against  Tory  was 
mingled  with  the  grudge  of  Englishman  against  Scot. 
The  two  sections  of  the  great  British  p(!ople  had  not  yet 
been  indissolubly  blended  together.  The  events  of  1715 
and  of  1745  had  left  painful  and  enduring  traces.  The 
tradesmen  of  Cornhill  had  l)een  in  dread  of  seeing  their 
tills  and  warehouses  plundered  by  barelegged  mountain- 
eers from  the  Grampians.  They  still  recollected  that 
Black  Friday,  when  the  news  oanie  that  the  rebels  were 
at  D('rl)y,  when  all  the  shops  in  the  city  were  closed,  and 
when  the  Bank  of  England  began  to  pay  in  sixpences. 
The  Scots,  on  the  other  hand,  remembered  with  natural 
resentment,  the  severity  with  which  the  insurgents  had 
been  chastised,  the  military  outrages,  the  humiliating 
laws,  the  heads  fixed  on  Temj)le  Bar,  the  fires  and  quar- 
tering blocks  on  Kennington  Common.  The  favorite  did 
not  suffer  the  English  to  ff)rget  from  what  part  of  the 
island  he  came.     The  cry  of  all  the  south  was  that  the 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  129 

public  offices,  the  army,  the  navy,  were  filled  with  high- 
cheeked  Drummonds  and  Erskines,  Macdonalds  and  Mac- 
gillivrays,  who  could  not  talk  a  Christian  tongue,  and 
some  of  whom  had  but  lately  begun  to  wear  Christian 
breeches.  All  the  old  jokes  on  hills  without  trees,  girls 
without  stockings,  men  eating  the  food  of  horses,  pails 
emptied  from  the  fourteenth  story,  were  pointed  against 
these  lucky  adventurers.  To  the  honor  of  the  Scots  it 
must  be  said,  that  their  prudence  and  their  pride  re- 
strained them  from  retaliation.  Like  the  princes  in  the 
Arabian  tale,  they  stopped  their  ears  tight,  and,  unmoved 
by  the  shrillest  notes  of  abuse,  walked  on,  without  once 
looking  round,  straight  toward  the  Golden  Fountain. 

Bute,  who  liad  always  been  considered  as  a  man  of 
taste  and  reading,  affected,  from  the  moment  of  his  eleva- 
tion, the  character  of  a  Maecenas.  If  he  expected  to 
conciliate  the  public  by  encouraging  literature  and  art, 
he  was  grievously  mistaken.  Indeed,  none  of  the  objects 
of  his  munificence,  with  the  single  exception  of  Johnson, 
can  be  said  to  have  been  well  selected;  and  the  public,  not 
unnaturally,  ascribed  the  selection  of  Johnson  rather  to 
the  Doctor's  political  prejudices  than  to  his  literary 
merits:  for  a  wretched  scribbler  named  Shebbeare,  who 
had  nothing  in  common  with  Johnson  except  violent 
Jacobitism,  and  who  had  stood  in  the  pillory  for  a  libel 
on  the  Tlcvf)lution,  was  honored  with  a  mark  of  royal 
approbation,  similar  to  that  which  was  bestowed  on  the 
author  of  the  English  Dictionary,  and  of  the  Vanity  of 
Human  Wishes.  It  was  rcniarki'(l  that  Adam,  a  Scotch- 
man, was  the  court  architect,  and  that  Ramsay,  a  Scotch- 
man, was  the  court  painter,  and  was  preforn^d  to  Rey- 
nohls.  Miillet,  a  Scotchman,  of  no  high  literary  fame, 
and  of  infamous  character,  partook  largely  of  the  liberality 
of  the  government.  John  Home,  a  Scotchman,  was  re- 
warded for  tlie  tragedy  of  Douglas,  botli  with  a  pension 
and  with  a  sinecure  place.  Hut,  whi'ii  the  author  of  the 
Bard,  and  of  the  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard,  ven- 
tured to  ask  for  a  Professorsbij),  the  enioliiiuents  of  whicli 
he  much  needed,  and  for  the  duties  of  which  he  was,  in 
many  respects,  better  (lualified  than  any  nuin  living,  he 
was  refu«od  ;  and  the  post  was  bestowed  on  the  pedatroguo 
under    whose  care   the   favorite's   son-in-law.   Sir   Jamea 


130  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Lowtlier,  had  made  such  sifjnal  proficiency  in  the  graces 
and  in  the  humane  virtues. 

Thus,  the  first  lord  of  the  treasury  was  detested  by 
many  as  a  Tory,  by  many  as  a  favorite,  and  by  many  as  a 
Scot.  All  the  hatred  which  flowed  from  these  various 
sources  soon  mingled,  and  was  directed  in  one  torrent 
of  obloquy  against  the  treaty  of  peace.  The  Duke  of 
Bedford,  who  negotiated  that  treaty,  was  hooted  through 
the  streets.  Bute  was  attacked  in  his  chair,  and  was  with 
difficidty  rescued  by  a  troop  of  guards.  He  could  hardly 
walk  the  str(M?ts  in  safety  without  disguising  himself.  A 
gentleman  who  died  not  many  years  ago  used  to  say  that 
he  once  recognized  the  favorite  Earl  in  the  piazza  of 
Covent  Garden,  muffled  in  a  large  coat,  and  with  a  hat 
and  wig  drawn  down  over  his  brows.  His  lordship's 
established  type  with  the  mob  was  a  jack  boot,  a  wretched 
pun  on  his  Christian  name  and  title.  A  jack  boot,  gen- 
erally accompanied  by  a  petticoat,  was  sometimes  fastened 
on  a  gallows,  and  sometimes  committed  to  the  flames. 
Libels  on  the  court,  exceeding  in  audacity  and  rancor 
any  that  had  been  published  for  many  years,  now  appeared 
daily  both  in  prose  and  verse.  Wilkes,  with  lively  inso- 
lence, compared  the  mother  of  George  the  Third  to  the 
mother  of  Edward  the  Third,  and  the  Scotch  minister  to 
the  gentle  Mortimer.  Churchill,  with  all  the  energy  of 
hatred,  deplored  the  fate  of  his  country,  invaded  by  a 
new  race  of  savages,  more  cruel  and  ravenous  than  the 
Picts  or  the  Danes,  the  poor,  proud  children  of  Leprosy 
and  Hunger.  It  is  a  slight  circumstance,  but  deserves  to 
be  recorded,  that  in  this  year  pamphleteers  first  ventured 
to  print  at  length  the  names  of  the  great  men  whom  they 
lampooned.      George    the    Second    had    always    been    the 

K .     His  ministers  had  been  Sir  R W ,  Mr. 

P ,   and   the    Duke   of    N .      But    the   libelers    of 

George  the  Third,  of  the  Princess  Mother,  and  of  Lord 
Bute  did  not  give  quarter  to  a  single  vowel. 

It  was  supposed  that  Lord  Temple  secretly  encouraged 
the  most  scurrilous  assailants  of  the  government.  In 
truth,  those  who  knew  his  habits  tracked  him  as  men 
track  a  mole.  It  was  his  nature  to  grub  underground. 
Whenever  a  heap  of  dirt  was  flung  up,  it  might  well  be 
suspected    that   he   was    at   work    in   some  foul    crooked 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  131 

labyrinth  below.  Pitt  turned  away  from  the  filthy  work 
of  opposition,  with  the  same  scorn  with  which  he  had 
turned  away  from  the  filthy  work  of  Government.  He 
had  the  magnanimity  to  proclaim  everywhere  the  disgust 
which  he  felt  at  the  insults  offered  by  his  own  adherents 
to  the  Scottish  nation,  and  missed  no  opportunity  of  ex- 
tolling the  courage  and  fidelity  which  the  Highland  regi- 
ments had  displayed  through  the  whole  war.  But,  though 
he  disdained  to  use  any  but  lawful  and  honorable  weapons, 
it  was  well  known  that  his  fair  blows  were  likely  to  be  far 
more  formidable  than  the  privy  thrusts  of  his  brother-in- 
law's  stiletto. 

Bute's  heart  began  to  fail  him.  The  Houses  were  about 
t6'meet.  The  treaty  would  instantly  be  the  subject  of 
discussion.  It  was  probable  that  Pitt,  the  great  Whig 
connection,  and  the  multitude,  would  all  be  on  the  same 
side.  The  favorite  had  professed  to  hold  in  abhorrence 
those  means  by  which  preceding  ministers  had  kept  the 
House  of  Commons  in  good  humor.  He  now  began  to 
think  that  he  had  been  too  scrupulous.  His  Utopian 
visions  were  at  an  end.  It  was  necessary,  not  only  to 
bribe,  but  to  bribe  more  shamelessly  and  flagitiously  than 
his  predecessors,  in  order  to  make  up  for  lost  time.  A 
majority  must  be  secured,  no  matter  by  what  means. 
Could  r.renvillo  do  this?  Would  he  do  it?  His  firmness 
and  ability  had  not  yet  been  tried  in  any  perilous  crisis. 
He  had  been  generally  rcgarrled  as  a  humble  follower  of 
his  brother  Temple,  and  of  his  brother-in-law  Pitt,  and 
was  supposed,  though  with  little  reason,  to  be  still  favor- 
ably inclined  toward  them.  Other  aid  must  be  called  in. 
And  where  was  other  aid  to  be  found? 

There  was  one  man,  whose  sharp  and  manly  logic  had 
often  in  debate  been  found  a  match  for  the  lofty  and 
imfiassioiied  rlietorie  of  Pitt,  wlnise  talents  for  joblunf? 
were  not  inferior  to  his  talents  for  debate,  whose  dauntless 
spirit  shrank  from  no  difficulty  or  danger,  and  who  was 
as  little  troubli'd  with  seruples  as  with  fears.  Henry  Fox, 
or  nobody,  co\ild  weather  the  storm  which  was  about  to 
burst.  Yet  was  he  a  person  to  whom  the  court,  even  in 
that  extremity,  was  unwilling  to  have  renonrse?  He  liad 
always  been  regarded  as  a  Whig  of  the  Whigs.  He  liad 
been  the  friend  and  disciple  of  Walpole.     He  had  long 


132  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

been  connected  by  close  ties  with  William  Duke  of  Cum- 
berland. By  the  Tories  he  was  more  hated  than  any  man 
living.  So  strong  was  their  aversion  to  him  that  when, 
in  the  late  roign,  he  attempted  to  form  a  party  against 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  they  had  thrown  all  their  weight 
into  Newcastle's  scale.  T3y  the  Scots,  Fox  was  abhorred 
as  the  confidential  friend  of  the  conqueror  of  Culloden, 
He  was,  on  personal  grounds,  most  obnoxious  to  the 
Princess  Mother.  For  he  had,  immediately  after  her  hus- 
band's death,  advised  the  late  King  to  take  the  education 
of  her  son,  the  heir  apparent,  entirely  out  of  her  hands. 
He  hail  recently  given,  if  possible,  still  deeper  offense; 
for  he  had  indulged,  not  without  some  ground,  the  ambi- 
tious hope  that  his  beautiful  sister-in-law,  the  Lady  Sarah 
Lennox,  might  be  queen  of  England.  It  had  been  ob- 
served that  the  King  at  one  time  rode  every  morning  by 
the  grounds  of  Holland  House,  and  that,  on  such  occa- 
sions Lady  Sarah,  dressed  like  a  shepherdess  at  a  masque- 
rade, was  making  hay  close  to  the  road,  which  was  then 
separated  by  no  wall  from  the  lawn.  On  account  of  the 
part  which  Fox  had  taken  in  this  singular  love  affair,  he 
was  the  only  member  of  the  Privy  Council  who  was  not 
summoned  to  the  meeting  at  which  his  Majesty  announced 
his  intended  marriage  with  the  Princess  of  Mecklenburg. 
Of  all  the  statesmen  of  the  age,  therefore,  it  seemed  that 
Fox  was  the  last  with  whom  Bute,  the  Tory,  the  Scot,  the 
favorite  of  the  Princess  Mother,  could,  under  any  circum- 
stances,  act.     Yet  to   Fox   Bute   was   now   compelled   to 

apply. 

Fox  had  many  noble  and  amiable  qualities,  which  in 
private  life  shone  forth  in  full  luster,  and  made  him  dear 
to  his  children,  to  his  dependents,  and  to  his  friends;  but 
as  a  public  man  he  had  no  title  to  esteem.  In  him  the 
vices  which  were  common  to  the  whole  school  of  Walpole 
appeared,  not  perhaps  in  their  worst,  but  certainly  in  their 
most  prominent  form;  for  his  parliamentary  and  official 
talents  made  all  his  faults  conspicuous.  His  courage, 
his  vehement  temper,  his  contempt  for  appearances,  led 
him  to  display  much  that  others,  quite  as  unscrupulous 
as  himself,  covered  with  a  decent  veil.  He  was  the  most 
unpopular  of  the  statesmen  of  his  time,  not  because  he 
sinned  more  than  many  of  them,  but  because  he  canted  less. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  133 

He  felt  his  unpopularity ;  but  he  felt  it  after  the  fashion 
of  strong  minds.  He  became,  not  cautious,  but  reckless, 
and  faced  the  rage  of  the  whole  nation  with  a  scowl  of 
indexible  defiance.  He  was  born  with  a  sweet  and  gen- 
erous temper;  but  he  had  been  goaded  and  baited  into  a 
savageness  which  was  not  natural  to  him,  and  which 
amazed  and  shocked  those  who  knew  him  best.  Such  was 
the  man  to  whom  Bute,  in  extreme  need,  applied  for  suc- 
cor. 

That  succor  Fox  was  not  unwilling  to  afford.  Though 
by  no  means  of  an  envious  temper,  he  had  undoubtedly 
contemplated  the  success  and  popularity  of  Pitt  with 
bitter  mortification.  He  thought  himself  Pitt's  match  as 
a  debater,  and  Pitt's  superior  as  a  man  of  business.  They 
had  long  been  regarded  as  well-paired  rivals.  They  had 
started  fair  in  tbe  career  of  ambition.  Tbey  had  long 
run  side  by  side.  At  length  Fox  had  taken  the  lead,  and 
Pitt  had  fallen  behind.  Then  had  come  a  sudden  turn 
of  fortune,  like  that  in  VirgiTs  foot-race.  Fox  had  stum- 
bled in  the  mire,  and  had  not  only  been  defeated,  but 
befouled.  Pitt  had  readied  the  goal,  and  received  the 
prize.  The  emoluments  of  the  Pay  Office  might  induce 
the  defeated  statesman  to  sul)iiiit  in  silence  to  the  ascend- 
ency of  his  competitor,  but  could  not  satisfy  a  mind 
conscious  of  great  powers,  and  sore  from  great  vexations. 
As  soon,  therefore,  as  a  party  arose  adverse  to  the  war 
and  to  the  supremacy  f)f  th(>  great  war  minister,  the  liopes 
of  I'^ox  began  to  revive.  His  feuds  with  th(;  Princess 
Mother,  with  the  Scots,  with  the  Tories,  ho  was  ready  to 
forget,  if  by  the  help  of  his  old  erieuiies  he  could  now 
regain  the  importance  which  lie  had  lost,  and  cinilront 
Pitt  on  e()ual  terms. 

The  alliance  was,  therefore,  soon  concluded.  Fox  was 
assured  that,  if  he  would  pilot  the  goveriuneut  out  of  its 
embarrassing  situation,  he  should  be  rewarded  with  a 
peerage,  of  which  he  had  long  been  desirous.  He  under- 
tcjok  on  his  side  to  obtain,  by  fair  or  foul  means,  a  vote 
in  favor  of  the  peace.  In  conse<|uence  of  this  arrange- 
ment he  became  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons;  and 
(Jrcnville,  stifling  his  vexation  as  well  as  he  could,  sul- 
lenly acquiesced  in  the  change. 

Fox   had    expected   that   his    influence   would    secure  to 


134  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

the  court  the  cordial  support  of  some  eminent  Whigs  who 
were  his  personal  frioiuls,  particularly  of  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  and  of  tlie  Duke  of  Devonshire.  He  was 
disappointed,  and  soon  found  that,  in  addition  to  all  his 
other  difficulties,  he  must  reckon  on  the  opposition  of  the 
ablest  prince  of  the  blood,  and  of  the  great  house  of 
Cavendish. 

But  he  had  pledged  himself  to  win  the  battle;  and  he 
was  not  a  man  to  go  back.  It  was  no  time  for  squeamish- 
ness.  Bute  was  made  to  comprehend  that  the  ministry 
could  be  saved  only  by  practising  the  tactics  of  Walpole 
to  an  extent  at  which  Walpole  himself  would  have  stared. 
The  Pay  Office  was  turned  into  a  mart  for  votes.  Hun- 
dreds of  members  were  closeted  there  with  Fox,  and,  as 
there  is  too  much  reason  to  believQ,  departed  carrying 
with  them  the  wages  of  infancy.  It  was  affirmed  by  per- 
sons who  had  the  best  opportunities  of  obtaining  infor- 
mation, that  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  were  thus  paid 
away  in  a  single  morning.  The  lowest  bribe  given,  it 
was  said,  was  a  bank-note  for  two  hundred  pounds. 

Intimidation  was  joined  with  corruption.  All  ranks, 
from  tlie  highest  to  the  lowest,  were  to  be  taught  that 
the  King  would  be  obeyed.  The  Lords  Lieutenants  of 
several  counties  were  dismissed.  The  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire was  especially  singled  out  as  the  victim  by  whose 
fate  the  magnates  of  England  were  to  take  warning.  His 
wealth,  rank,  and  influence,  his  stainless  private  character, 
and  the  constant  attachment  of  liis  family  to  the  House 
of  Hanover,  did  not  secure  him  from  gross  personal  in- 
dignity. It  was  known  that  he  disapproved  of  the  course 
wliich- the  government  had  taken;  and  it  was  accordingly 
determined  to  humble  the  Prince  of  the  Whigs,  as  he  had 
been  nicknamed  by  the  Princess  Mother,  He  went  to  the 
palace  to  pay  his  duty.  ''Tell  him,"  said  the  King  to  a 
page,  "that  I  will  not  see  him."  The  page  hesitated. 
"Go  to  him,"  said  the  King,  "and  tell  him  those  very 
words."  The  message  was  delivered.  The  Duke  tore  off 
his  gold  key,  and  went  away  boiling  with  anger.  His 
relations  who  were  in  office  instantly  resigned.  A  few 
days  later,  the  King  called  for  the  list  of  Privy  Council- 
lors, and  with  his  own  hand  struck  out  the  Duke's  name. 

In  this  step  there  was  at  least  courage,  though  little 


THE  EAEL  OF  CHATHAM  135 

wisdom  or  good  nature.  But,  as  nothing  was  too  high  for 
the  revenge  of  the  court,  so  also  was  nothing  too  low.  A 
persecution,  such  as  had  never  been  known  before  and 
has  never  been  known  since,  raged  in  every  public  depart- 
ment. Great  numbers  of  humble  and  laborious  clerks 
were  deprived  of  their  bread,  not  because  they  had 
neglected  their  duties,  not  because  they  had  taken  an 
active  part  against  the  ministry,  but  merely  because  they 
had  owed  their  situations  to  the  recommendation  of  some 
nobleman  or  gentleman  who  was  against  the  peace.  The 
proscription  extended  to  tidewaiters,  to  gangers,  to  door- 
keepers. One  poor  man  to  whom  a  pension  had  been 
giyen  for  his  gallantry  in  a  fight  with  smugglers,  was 
deprived  of  it  because  he  had  been  befriended  by  the  Duke 
of  Grafton.  An  aged  widow,  who,  on  account  of  her 
husband's  services  in  the  navy,  had,  many  years  before, 
been  made  housekeeper  to  a  public  office,  was  dismissed 
from  her  situation,  because  it  was  imagined  that  she  was 
distantly  connected  by  marriage  with  the  Cavendish 
family.  The  public  clamor,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
grew  daily  louder  and  louder.  But  the  louder  it  grew, 
the  more  resolutely  did  Fox  go  on  with  the  work  which 
he  had  begun.  His  old  friends  <'ould  not  conceive  what 
had  possessed  him.  "I  could  forgive,"  said  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  "Fox's  political  vagaries,  but  I  am  quite 
confounded  by  his  inluimanitj'.  Surely  he  used  to  be  the 
best-natur^d  of  men." 

At  last  Fox  went  so  far  as  tt)  take  a  legal  opinion  on 
the  (luestion,  whether  the  patents  granted  by  George  the 
Second  were  binding  on  George  the  Third.  It  is  said 
that,  if  his  colleagues  had  not  flinched,  he  would  at  nnee 
have  turned  out  the  Tellers  of  the  Exchequer  and  Justices 
in  Eyre. 

M«'anwhile  the  Parliament  met.  The  ministers,  more 
hated  by  the  people  tlian  ever,  were  secure  of  a  majority, 
and  they  had  also  reason  to  hope  that  they  would  have 
the  advantage  in  the  debates  as  well  as  in  the  divisions; 
for  I'itt  was  ef)nfine(l  to  his  chanilier  liy  a  severe  attack 
of  gout.  His  friends  moved  to  defer  the  consideration 
of  the  treaty  till  he  should  be  able  to  attend;  but  the 
jnotion  was  rejected.  The  great  day  arrived.  The  dis- 
cussion  had   lasted   some  time,   when   a   loud   huzza  was 


136  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

hoard  in  Palace  Yard.  Tlie  noise  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
up  the  stairs,  tlinnijih  tlic  lobby.  The  door  opened,  and 
from  the  midst  of  a  shouting  multitude  came  forth  Pitt, 
borne  in  the  arms  of  his  attendants.  His  face  was  thin 
and  fihastly,  his  limbs  swathed  in  flannel,  his  crutch  in 
his  hand.  The  bearers  set  him  down  within  the  bar.  His 
friends  instantly  surrounded  him,  and  with  their  help 
he  crawled  to  his  seat  near  the  table.  In  this  condition 
he  spoke  three  hours  and  a  half  ajxainst  the  peace.  During? 
that  time  he  was  repeatedly  forced  to  sit  down  and  to  use 
cordials.  It  may  well  be  supposed  that  his  voice  was 
faint,  that  his  action  was  languid,  and  that  his  speech, 
thoufih  occasionally  brilliant  and  impressive,  was  feeble 
when  compared  with  his  best  oratorical  performances. 
But  those  who  remembered  what  he  had  done,  and  who 
saw  what  he  suffered,  listened  to  him  with  emotions 
stronger  than  any  mere  ehxpience  can  produce.  He  was 
imable  to  stay  for  the  division,  and  was  carried  away 
from  the  House  amidst  shouts  as  loud  as  those  which  had 
announced  his  arrival. 

A  large  majority  approved  the  peace.  The  exaltation 
of  the  court  was  l)oundless.  "Now,"  exclaimed  the 
Princess  Mother,  "my  son  is  really  King."  The  young 
sovereign  spoke  of  himself  as  freed  from  the  bondage 
in  which  his  grandfather  had  been  held.  On  one  point, 
it  was  announced,  his  mind  was  unalterably  made  \ip. 
Under  no  circumstances  whatever  should  those  Whig 
grandees,  who  had  enslaved  his  predecessors  and  endeav- 
oured to  enslave  himself,  be  restoretl  to  power. 

This  vaunting  was  premature.  The  real  strength  of 
the  favorite  was  by  no  means  proportioned  to  the  number 
of  votes  which  he  had,  on  one  particular  division,  been 
able  to  command.  He  was  soon  again  in  difficulties.  The 
most  important  part  of  his  budget  was  a  tax  on  cider. 
This  measure  was  opposed,  not  only  by  those  who  were 
generally  hostile  to  his  admini.stration,  but  also  by  many 
of  his  supporters.  The  name  of  excise  had  always  been 
hateful  to  the  Tories.  One  of  the  chief  crimes  of  Walpole, 
in  their  eyes,  had  been  his  partiality  for  this  mode  of 
raising  money.  The  Tory  Johnson  had  in  his  Dictionary 
given  so  scurrilous  a  definition  to  the  word  Excise,  that 
the   Commissioners  of  Excise  had   seriously   thought  of 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  137 

prosecuting  him.  The  counties  which  the  new  impost 
particularly  affected  had  always  been  Tory  counties.  It 
was  the  boast  of  John  Philips,  the  poet  of  the  English 
vintage,  that  the  Cider-land  had  ever  been  faithful  to  the 
throne,  and  that  all  the  pruning-hooks  of  her  thousand 
orchards  had  been  beaten  into  swords  for  the  service  of 
the  ill  fated  Stuarts.  The  effect  of  Bute's  fiscal  scheme 
was  to  produce  a  union  between  the  gentry  and  yeomanry 
of  the  Cider-land  and  the  Whigs  of  the  capital.  Hereford- 
shire and  Worcestershire  were  in  a  flame.  The  city  of 
London,  though  not  so  directly  interested,  was,  if  possible, 
still  more  excited.  The  debates  on  this  question  irrepar- 
^i>ly  damaged  the  goveriuiient.  Dashwood's  financial 
statement  had  been  confused  and  absurd  beyond  belief, 
and  had  been  received  by  the  House  with  roars  of  laugh- 
ter. He  had  sense  enough  to  be  conscious  of  his  unfitness 
for  the  high  situation  which  he  held,  and  exclaimed  in  a 
comical  fit  of  despair,  "What  shall  I  do?  The  boys  will 
point  at  me  in  the  street,  and  cry,  'There  goes  the  worst 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  that  ever  was.' "  George 
drenville  came  to  the  rescue,  and  spoke  strongly  on  his 
favorite  theme,  the  profusion  with  which  the  late  war 
had  been  carried  on.  That  profusion,  he  said,  had  made 
taxes  necessary.  He  called  on  the  gentlemen  opposite  to 
him  to  say  where  they  would  have  a  tax  laid,  and  dwelt 
on  this  topic  with  his  usual  [)rolixity.  "Let  them  tell  me 
where,"  he  repeated  in  a  monotonous  and  somewhat  fret- 
ful tone.  "I  say,  sir,  let  them  tell  me  where.  I  repeat 
it,  sir;  T  am  entitled  to  say  to  them,  Tell  me  where." 
ITnluckily  for  him,  Pitt  had  come  down  to  the  House 
that  night,  and  had  been  bitterly  provoked  by  the  reflec- 
tions thrown  on  the  war.  He  revenged  himself  by 
murniuririg,  in  a  wliine  resembling  (Irenville's  ii  line  of  a 
well  known  song,  "(lentle  Shepherd,  tell  me  where."  "If," 
cried    (Irenville,    "gentlemen    are    to    be    treated    in    this 

way  "     Pitt,  as  was  his  fashion,  when   he  meant  to 

mark  extreme  contempt,  rose  (h-liberately,  made  his  bow, 
and  walked  out  of  IIk-  House,  leaving  liis  brother-in-law 
in  convulsions  of  rage,  and  everybody  else  in  convulsions 
of  laughter.  It  was  long  before  Cirenvillo  lost  the  nick- 
name of  the  rjcntle  Sliepherd. 

But   the  ministry   had   vexations  still   more  serious   to 


138  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

endure.  The  hatred  which  the  Tories  and  Scots  bore 
to  Fox  was  imphu'al)k\  In  a  moment  of  extreme  peril, 
thej'  had  consented  to  put  themselves  under  his  {guidance. 
But  the  aversion  with  which  they  rejfarded  him  broke 
forth  as  soon  as  the  crisis  seemed  to  be  over.  Some  of 
them  attacked  him  about  the  accounts  of  the  Pay  Office. 
Some  of  them  rudely  interrupted  him  when  speaking, 
by  laughter  and  ironical  cheers.  He  was  naturally  de- 
sirous to  escape  from  so  disagreeable  a  situation,  and 
demanded  the  peerage  which  had  been  promised  as  the 
reward  of  his  services. 

It  was  clear  that  there  must  be  some  change  in  the 
composition  of  the  ministry.  Rut  scarcely  any,  even  of 
those  who,  from  their  situation,  might  be  supposed  to  be 
in  all  the  secrets  of  the  government,  anticipated  what 
really  took  place.  To  the  amazement  of  the  Parliament 
and  the  nation,  it  was  suddenly  announced  that  Bute  had 
resigned. 

Twenty  different  explanations  of  this  strange  step 
were  suggested.  Some  attributed  it  to  profound  design, 
and  some  to  sudden  panic.  Some  said  that  the  lampoons 
of  the  opposition  had  driven  the  Earl  from  the  field;  some 
that  he  had  taken  office  only  in  order  to  bring  the  war 
to  a  close,  and  had  always  meant  to  retire  when  that 
object  had  been  accomplished.  He  publicly  assigned  ill 
health  as  his  reason  for  quitting  business,  and  privately 
eomplained  that  he  was  not  cordially  seconded  by  his 
colleagues,  and  that  Lord  Mansfield,  in  particular,  whom 
he  had  himself  brought  into  the  cabinet,  gave  him  no 
support  in  the  House  of  Peers.  Mansfield  was,  indeed, 
far  too  sagacious  not  to  perceive  that  Bute's  situation 
was  one  of  great  peril,  and  far  too  timorous  to  thrust 
himself  into  peril  for  the  sake  of  another.  The  prob- 
ability, however,  is  that  Bute's  conduct  on  this  occasion, 
like  the  conduct  of  most  men  on  most  occasions,  was 
determined  by  mixed  motives.  We  suspect  that  he  was 
sick  of  office;  for  this  is  a  feeling  much  more  common 
among  ministers  than  persons  who  see  public  life  from  a 
distance  are  disposed  to  believe;  and  nothing  could  be 
more  natural  than  that  this  feeling  should  take  possession 
of  the  mind  of  Bute.  In  general,  a  statesman  climbs  by 
slow    degrees.      Many    laborious    years    elapse    before    he 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  139 

reaches  the  topmost  pinnacle  of  preferment.  In  the 
earlier  part  of  his  career,  therefore,  he  is  constantly 
lured  on  by  seeing  something  above  him.  During  his 
ascent  he  gradually  becomes  inured  to  the  annoyances 
which  belong  to  a  life  of  ambition.  By  the  time  that  he 
has  attained  the  highest  point,  he  has  become  patient  of 
labor  and  callous  to  abuse.  He  is  kept  constant  to  his 
vocation,  in  spite  of  all  its  discomforts,  at  first  by  hope, 
and  at  last  by  habit.  It  was  not  so  with  Bute.  His  whole 
public  life  lasted  little  more  than  two  years.  On  the  day 
on  which  he  became  a  politician  he  became  a  cabinet 
minister.  In  a  few  months  he  was,  both  in  name  and  in 
show,  chief  of  the  administration.  Greater  than  he  had 
been  he  could  not  be.  If  what  he  already  possessed  was 
vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,  no  delusion  remained  to 
entice  him  onward.  He  had  been  cloyed  with  the  pleasures 
of  ambition  before  he  had  been  seasoned  to  its  pains.  His 
habits  had  not  been  such  as  were  likely  to  fortify  his 
mind  against  obloquy  and  public  hatred.  He  had  reached 
his  forty-eighth  year  in  dignified  ease,  without  knowing, 
by  personal  experience,  what  it  was  to  be  ridiculed  and 
slandered.  All  at  once,  without  any  previous  initiation, 
he  had  found  himself  exposed  to  such  a  storm  of  invective 
and  satire  as  had  never  burst  on  the  head  of  any  states- 
man. The  emoluments  of  office  were  now  nothing  to  him; 
for  he  had  just  succeeded  to  a  princely  property  by  the 
death  of  his  father-in-law.  All  the  honors  which  could 
be  bcstowfnl  on  him  ho  had  already  secured.  Ho  had 
obtained  the  Garter  for  him.self,  and  a  British  peerage 
for  his  son.  He  seems  also  to  have  imagined  that  by 
quitting  the  treasury  ho  shonld  escape  from  dniiiicr  and 
abuse  without  really  resigning  power,  and  sliould  still  be 
able  to  exercise  in  private  supreme  influence  over  the 
royal  mind. 

Whatever  may  have  boon  his  motives,  ho  retiro(l.  Fox 
at  the  same  time  took  refuge  in  the  House  of  Lords;  and 
Oeorgo  rironvillr-  boeaino  First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  and 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

We  believe  that  those  who  made  this  arrangement  fully 
intondo^l  that  Oronvillo  shonld  be  a  mere  pnj)i)ot  in  the 
hands  of  Bute;  for  Clrenvillo  was  as  yet  very  injporfectly 
known  even  to  those  who  had  observed  him  long.     He 


140  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

passed  for  a  mere  official  drudge;  and  he  had  all  the  in- 
dustry, the  minute  accuracy,  the  formality,  the  tedious- 
ness,  which  bclouf?  to  the  character.  But  he  had  other 
qualities  whicli  liad  not  yet  shown  themselves,  devouring 
ambition,  dauntless  courage,  self-confidence  amounting 
to  presumption,  and  a  temper  which  could  not  endure 
opposition.  He  was  not  disposed  to  be  anybody's  tool; 
and,  ho  had  no  attachment,  political  or  personal,  to  Bute. 
The  two  men  had,  indeed,  nothing  in  common,  except  a 
strong  proi)ensity  toward  harsh  and  unpopular  courses. 
Their  principles  were  fundamentally  diflFerent.  Bute  was 
a  Tory.  Grenville  would  have  been  very  angry  with  any 
person  who  should  have  denied  his  claim  to  be  a  Whig. 
He  was  more  prone  to  tyrannical  measures  than  Bute; 
but  he  loved  tyranny  only  when  disguised  under  the  forms 
of  constitutional  liberty.  He  mixed  up,  after  a  fashion 
then  not  very  unusual,  the  theories  of  the  republicans  of 
the  seventeenth  century  with  the  technical  maxims  of 
English  law,  and  thus  succeeded  in  combining  anarchical 
speculation  with  arbitrary  practice.  The  voice  of  the 
people  was  the  voice  of  God ;  but  the  only  legitimate 
organ  through  which  the  voice  of  the  people  could  be 
uttered  was  the  Parliament.  All  power  was  from  the 
people;  but  to  the  Parliament  the  whole  power  of  the 
people  had  l)een  delegatcxl.  No  Oxonian  divine  had  ever, 
even  in  the  years  which  immediately  followed  the  Resto- 
ration, demanded  for  the  king  so  abject,  so  unreasoning 
a  homage,  as  Grenville,  on  what  he  considered  as  the 
purest  Whig  fjrinciplos,  demanded  for  the  Parliament. 
As  he  wished  to  see  the  Parliament  despotic  over  the 
nation,  so  he  wished  to  see  it  also  despotic  over  the  court. 
In  his  view  the  prime  minister,  possessed  of  the  confidence 
of  the  House  of  Commons,  ought  to  be  Mayor  of  the 
Palace.  The  King  was  a  mere  Childerie  or  Chilperic,* 
who  might  well  think  himself  lucky  in  being  permitted 
to  enjoy  such  handsome  apartments  at  Saint  James's,  and 
so  fine  a  park  at  Windsor. 

Thus  the  opinions  of  l^ute  and  those  of  Grenville  were 

*  Chllderlc  III,  a  Franklsh  klnR  of  the  8th  century,  the  last  of 
the  Merovingian  dynasty,  was  a  mere  tool  In  the  hands  of  the 
mayors,   and   was   finally  deposed. 

Chllpfric  n,  reigned  under  similar  circumstances,  but  died  while 
still   nominally   king. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  141 

diametrically  opposed.  Nor  was  there  any  private  friend- 
ship between  the  two  statesmen.  Grenville's  nature  was 
not  forgiving ;  and  he  well  remembered  how,  a  few  months 
before,  he  had  been  compelled  to  yield  the  lead  of  the 
House  of  Commons  to  Fox. 

We  are  inclined  to  think,  on  the  whole,  that  the  worst 
administration  which  has  governed  England  since  the 
Revolution  was  that  of  George  Grenville.  His  public 
acts  may  be  classed  under  two  heads,  outrages  on  the 
liberty  of  the  people,  and  outrages  on  the  dignity  of  the 
crown. 

He  began  by  making  war  on  the  press.  John  Wilkes, 
member  of  Parliament  for  Aylesbury,  was  singled  out 
for  persecution.  Wilkes  had,  till  very  lately,  been  known 
chiefly  as  one  of  the  most  profane,  licentious,  and  agree- 
able rakes  about  town.  Ho  was  a  man  of  taste,  reading, 
and  engaging  manners.  His  sprightly  conversation  was 
the  delight  of  green  rooms  and  taverns,  and  pleased  even 
grave  hearers  when  he  was  sufficiently  under  restraint  to 
abstain  from  detailing  the  particulars  of  his  amours,  and 
from  breaking  jests  on  the  New  Testament.  His  expensive 
debaucheries  forced  him  to  have  recourse  to  the  Jews. 
He  was  soon  a  ruined  man,  and  determined  to  try  his 
chance  as  a  political  adventurer.  In  parliament  he  did 
not  succeed.  His  speaking,  though  pert,  was  feeble,  and 
by  no  means  interested  his  hearers  so  much  as  to  make 
them  forget  his  face,  wliich  was  so  hideous  that  the 
caricaturists  were  forced,  in  lluir  own  despite,  to  flatter 
him.  As  a  writer,  he  made  a  better  figure.  He  set  up  a 
weekly  i)aper,  calleci  tlie  Nortli  Hriton.  This  journal, 
written  with  some  pU\nsantry.  and  great  audacity  and  im- 
ymdenee,  had  a  considerable  nninber  of  readers.  Forty- 
ffnir  nnrnliers  had  been  publislied  .  when  Hute  resigned; 
and,  though  almost  every  numlur  li.id  contained  matter 
grossly  libelous,  no  jn'osecntion  bad  liecii  instituted.  The 
forty-fifth  nunilier  was  innocent  when  compared  with  tbe 
majority  of  those  whicb  bad  preceded  it,  anr]  indeetl 
contained  notliini;  so  strong  as  may  in  our  time  lie  found 
daily  in  the  Icjiding  articles  of  tbe  Times  and  Morning 
Chronicle.  Jjiit  Grenville  was  now  at  the  luad  of  affairs. 
A  new  spirit  had  been  infused  into  tbe  admitnstration. 
Authority    was    to   be    upheld.      'J'lie   government   was   no 


142  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

longer  to  be  braved  with  impunity.  Wilkes  was  arrested 
under  a  general  warrant,  conveyed  to  the  Tower,  and 
confined  there  with  circumstances  of  unusual  severity. 
His  papers  were  seized,  and  carried  to  the  Secretary  of 
State.  These  harsh  and  illegal  measures  produced  a 
violent  outbreak  of  popular  rage,  which  was  soon  changed 
to  delight  and  exultation.  The  arrest  was  pronounced 
unlawful  by  the  Court  of  Connuon  Pleas,  in  which  Chief 
Justice  Pratt  presided,  and  the  prisoner  was  discharged. 
This  victory  over  tlie  government  was  celebrated 
with  enthusiasm  both  in  London  and  in  the  Cider  coun- 
ties. 

While  the  ministers  were  daily  becoming  more  odious 
to  the  nation,  they  were  doing  their  best  to  make  them- 
selves also  odious  to  the  court.  They  gave  the  King 
plainly  to  understand  that  they  were  determined  not  to 
be  Lord  Bute's  creatures,  and  exacted  a  promise  that  no 
secret  adviser  should  have  access  to  the  royal  ear.  They 
soon  found  reason  to  suspect  that  this  promise  had  not 
been  observed.  They  remonstrated  in  terms  less  respectful 
than  their  master  had  been  accustomed  to  hear,  and  gave 
him  a  fortnight  to  make  his  choice  between  his  favorite 
and  his  cabinet. 

George  the  Third  was  great  disturbed.  He  had  but  a 
few  weeks  before  exulted  in  his  deliverance  from  the  yoke 
of  the  Great  Whig  connection.  He  had  even  declared  that 
his  honor  would  not  permit  him  ever  again  to  admit  the 
members  of  that  connection  into  his  service.  He  now 
found  that  he  had  only  exchanged  one  set  of  masters  for 
another  set  still  harsher  and  more  imperious.  In  his  dis- 
tress he  thought  on  Pitt.  From  Pitt  it  was  possible  that 
better  terms  might  l)e  obtained  than  either  from  Grenville, 
or  from  the  party  of  which  Newcastle  was  the  head. 

Grenville,  on  his  return  from  an  excursion  into  the 
country,  repaired  to  Buckingham  House.  He  was  as- 
tonished to  find  at  the  entrance  a  chair,  the  shape  of 
which  was  well  known  to  him,  and  indeed  to  all  London. 
It  was  distinguished  by  a  large  boot,  made  for  the  pur- 
pose of  accommodating  the  great  Commoner's  gouty  log. 
Greenville  guessed  the  whole.  His  brother-in-law  was 
closeted  with  the  King.  Bute,  provoked  by  what  he 
considered  as  the  unfriendly  and  ungrateful  conduct  of 


THE  EAEL  OF  CHATHAM  143 

his  successors,  had  himself  proposed  that  Pitt  should 
be  summoned  to  the  palace. 

Pitt  had  two  audiences  on  two  successive  days.  What 
passed  at  the  first  interview  led  him  to  expect  that  the 
negotiations  would  be  brought  to  a  satisfactory  close; 
but  on  the  morrow  he  found  the  King  less  complying. 
The  best  account,  indeed  the  only  trustworthy  account 
of  the  conference,  is  that  which  was  taken  from  Pitt's 
own  mouth  by  Lord  Hardwicke.  It  appears  that  Pitt 
strongly  represented  the  importance  of  conciliating  those 
chiefs  of  the  Whig  party  who  had  been  so  unhappy  as  to 
incur  the  royal  displeasure.  They  had,  he  said,  been  the 
most  constant  friends  of  the  House  of  Hanover.  Their 
power  was  great ;  they  had  been  long  versed  in  public 
business.  If  they  were  to  be  under  sentence  of  exclusion, 
a  solid  administration  could  not  be  formed.  His  Majesty 
could  not  bear  to  think  of  putting  himself  into  the  hands 
of  those  whom  he  had  recently  chased  from  his  court  with 
the  strongest  marks  of  anger.  "I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Pitt," 
he  said,  "but  I  see  this  will  not  do.  My  honor  is  con- 
cerned. I  must  support  my  honor."  How  his  Majesty 
succeeded  in  supporting  his  honor,  we  shall  see. 

Pitt  retired,  and  the  King  was  reduced  to  request  the 
ministers,  whom  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  discarding, 
to  remain  in  office.  During  the  two  years  which  followed, 
Crenville,  now  closely  leagued  with  the  Tiedfords,  was 
the  master  of  the  court;  aud  a  hard  mast<'r  he  proved. 
He  knew  that  he  was  kept  in  place  only  because  tliere 
was  no  ehoieo  except  between  himself  and  the  Whigs. 
That,  under  any  circumstances,  the  Whigs  would  be  for- 
given, he  thought  impossible.  Tbe  late  attempt  to  get 
rid  of  him  had  roused  bis  resentment;  the  fnilure  of  that 
attemj)t  had  lilcratid  liiiu  from  all  fear.  He  bad  nev(!r 
been  very  courtly,  lie  now  began  to  hold  a  language,  to 
which,  since  tbe  d;iys  of  Pornet  Joyce  and  I'resjdent 
T>radshaw,  no  Knt,Mi-;li  King  bad  been  comiiclled  to 
listen. 

In  one  matter,  indeed.  (Irenville.  at  tbe  expense  of 
justice  and  liberty,  gratified  tbe  jiassions  of  the  court 
while  gratifying  his  own.  Tbe  persecution  of  Wilkes 
was  eagerly  pressed.  He  bad  written  a  [larody  on  Pojie's 
Essay  on    ^^an,  entitled   the   Essay   on    Woman,  and   bad 


144  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

appondod  to  it  notes,  in  ridicule  of  Warburton's  famous 
Conniii'ntary. 

This  composition  was  exceedingly  proflifrate,  but  not 
more  so,  we  think,  than  some  of  Pope's  own  works,  the 
imitation  of  the  second  satire  of  the  first  book  of  Horace, 
for  example;  and,  to  do  Wilkes  justice,  he  had  not,  like 
Pope,  piven  his  ribaldry  to  the  world.  He  had  merely 
printed  at  a  private  press  a  very  small  number  of  copies, 
which  he  meant  to  present  to  some  of  his  boon  compan- 
ions, whose  morals  were  in  no  more  danger  of  being  cor- 
rupted by  a  loose  book  than  a  negro  of  being  tanned  by 
a  warm  sun.  A  tool  of  the  government,  by  giving  a 
bribe  to  the  printer,  procured  a  copy  of  this  trash,  and 
placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the  ministers.  The  ministers 
resolved  to  visit  Wilkes'  offense  against  decorum  with  the 
utmost  rigor  of  the  law.  What  share  piety  and  respect 
for  morals  had  in  dictating  this  resolution,  our  readers 
may  judge  from  the  fact  that  no  person  was  more  eager 
for  bringing  the  libertine  poet  to  punishment  than  Lord 
March,  afterward  Duke  of  Queensbury.  On  the  first 
day  of  the  session  of  Parliament,  the  book,  thus  disgrace- 
fully obtained,  was  laid  on  the  table  of  the  Lords  by  the 
Earl  of  Sandwich,  whom  the  Duke  of  Bedford's  interest 
had  made  Secretary  of  State.  The  unfortunate  author 
had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  that  his  licentious  poem 
had  ever  been  seen,  except  by  his  printer  and  by  a  few 
of  his  dissipated  companions,  till  it  was  produced  in  full 
ParliaiufMit.  Though  he  was  a  man  of  easy  temper,  averse 
from  danger,  and  not  very  susceptil)]e  of  shame,  the  sur- 
prise, the  disgrace,  the  prospect  of  utter  ruin,  put  him 
beside  himself.  He  picked  n  quarrel  with  one  of  Lord 
Bute's  dependents,  fought  a  duel,  was  seriously  wounded, 
and,  when  half  recovered,  fled  to  France.  His  enemies 
had  now  their  own  way  both  in  the  Parliament  and  in  the 
King's  Bench.  He  was  censured,  expelled  frfim  the  House 
of  Commons,  outlawed.  His  works  were  ordered  to  be 
burned  })y  the  common  hniiginan.  Yet  was  the  nniltitude 
still  true  to  him.  In  the  minds  even  of  many  moral  and 
religious  men,  his  crime  seemed  light  when  compared  with 
the  crime  of  his  acoisers.  The  conduct  of  Sandwich,  in 
particular,  excited  universal  disgust.  His  own  vices  were 
notorious;  and,  only  a  fortnight  before  he  laid  the  Essay 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  145 

on  Woman  before  the  House  of  Lords,  he  had  been  drink- 
ing and  singing  loose  catches  with  Wilkes  at  one  of  the 
most  dissohite  clubs  in  London.  Shortly  after  the  meet- 
ing of  Parliament,  the  Beggar's  Opera*  was  acted  at 
Covent  Garden  theater.  When  Macheath  uttered  the 
words — "That  Jemmy  Twitcher  should  peach  me  I  own 
surprised  me," — pit,  boxes,  and  galleries,  burst  into  a  roar 
which  seemed  likely  to  bring  the  roof  down.  From  that 
day  Sandwich  was  universally  known  by  the  nickname 
of  Jemmy  Twitcher.  The  ceremony  of  burning  the  North 
Briton  was  interrupted  by  a  riot.  The  constables  were 
beaten;  the  paper  was  rescued;  and,  instead  of  it,  a  jack- 
boot and  a  petticoat  were  committed  to  the  flames.  Wilkes 
had  instituted  an  action  for  the  seizure  of  his  papers 
against  the  L'ndersccretary  of  State.  The  .jury  gave  a 
thousand  pounds  damages.  But  neither  these  nor  any 
indications  of  public  feeling  had  power  to  move  Grenville. 
Ho  had  the  Parliament  with  him;  and,  according  to  his 
political  creed,  the  sense  of  the  nation  was  to  be  collected 
from  the  Parliament  alone. 

Soon,  however,  he  found  reason  to  fear  that  even  the 
Parliament  might  fail  him.  On  the  question  of  the 
legality  of  general  warrants,  the  Opposition,  having  on 
its  side  all  sound  principles,  all  constitutional  authorities, 
and  the  voice  of  the  whole  nation,  nnistcred  in  great  force, 
and  was  joined  by  many  who  did  not  ordinarily  vote 
against  the  government.  On  one  occasion  the  ministry, 
in  a  very  full  house,  had  a  majority  of  only  fourteen 
votes.  The  storm,  however,  blew  over.  The  spirit  of  the 
Opposition,  from  whatever  cause,  began  to  flag  at  the 
moment  when  success  seemed  almost  certain.  The  session 
ended  without  any  change.  Pitt,  whose  eloqnenc(^  had 
shone  with  its  usual  luster  in  all  the  principal  debates, 
and  whose  popularity  was  greater  than  ever,  was  still  a 
private  man.  Grenville,  detested  alike  by  the  court  and 
by  the  people,  was  still  iiiiTiister. 

As  soon  as  the  House  harl  risen,  Grejiville  took  a  step 
which  proved,  even  more  signally  than  any  of  his  past 
acts,  how  despotie.  how  aerinumious,  and  how  fearless  his 
nature  was.    Among  the  gentlemen  not  ordinarily  opposed 

•  Tho  Beggar's  Opera  Is  a  comic  opera  l>y  John  Gay,  originally 
produced   at   Lincoln's   Inn    Fields,   January   29,   1728. 


146  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

to  the  government,  who,  on  the  great  constitutional  ques- 
tion of  general  warrants,  had  voted  with  the  minority, 
was  Henry  Conway,  brotlier  of  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  a 
brave  sohlier,  a  tolerable  speaker,  and  a  well-meaning, 
though  not  a  wise  or  vigorous  politician.  He  was  now 
deprived  of  his  regiment,  the  merited  reward  of  faithful 
and  galhint  service  in  two  wars.  It  was  confidently  as- 
serted that  in  this  violent  measure  the  King  heartily 
concurred. 

But  whatever  pleasure  the  persecution  of  Wilkes  or  the 
dismissal  of  Conway  may  have  given  to  the  royal  mind, 
it  is  certain  that  his  Majesty's  aversion  to  his  ministers 
increased  day  by  day.  Grenville  was  as  frugal  of  the 
public  money  as  of  his  own,  and  morosely  refused  to  ac- 
cede to  the  King's  request,  that  a  few  thousand  pounds 
might  be  expended  in  buying  some  open  fields  to  the  west 
of  the  gardens  of  Euckinghham  House.  In  consequence  of 
this  refusal,  the  fields  were  soon  covered  with  buildings, 
and  the  King  and  Queen  were  overlooked  in  their  most 
private  walks  by  the  upper  windows  of  a  liundred  houses. 
Nor  was  this  the  worst.  Grenville  was  as  liberal  of  words 
as  he  was  sparing  of  guineas.  Instead  of  explaining 
himself  in  that  clear,  concise,  and  lively  manner,  which 
alone  could  win  the  attention  of  a  young  mind  new  to 
business,  he  spoke  in  the  closet  just  as  he  spoke  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  When  he  had  harangued  two  hours, 
he  looked  at  his  watch,  as  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
looking  at  the  clock  opposite  the  Speaker's  chair,  apolo- 
gized for  the  length  of  his  discourse,  and  then  went  on 
for  an  hour  more.  The  members  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons can  c()\igh  an  orator  down,  or  can  walk  away  to 
dinner;  and  they  were  by  no  means  sparing  in  the  use  of 
these  privileges  when  Grenville  was  on  his  legs.  But  the 
poor  young  King  had  to  endure  all  this  eloquence  with 
mournful  civility.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he  continued 
to  talk  with  horror  of  Grenville's  orations. 

About  tliis  time  took  place  one  of  the  most  singular 
events  in  Pitt's  life.  There  was  a  certain  Sir  William 
Pynsent,  a  Somersetshire  baronet  of  Whig  politics,  who 
had  been  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons  in  the  days 
of  Queen  Anne,  and  had  retired  to  rural  privacy  when 
the  Tory  party,  towards  the  end  of  her  reign,  obtained 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  147 

the  ascendency  in  her  councils.  His  manners  were  ec- 
centric. His  morals  lay  under  very  odious  imputations. 
But  his  fidelity  to  his  political  opinions  was  unalterable. 
During  fifty  years  of  seclusion  he  continued  to  brood  over 
the  circumstances  which  had  driven  him  from  public  life, 
the  dismissal  of  the  Whigs,  the  peace  of  Utrecht,  the 
desertion  of  our  allies.  He  now  thought  that  he  perceived 
a  close  analogy  between  the  well-remembered  events  of 
his  youth  and  the  events  which  he  had  witnessed  in  ex- 
treme old  age;  between  the  disgrace  of  Marlborough  and 
the  disgrace  of  Pitt;  between  the  elevation  of  Harley  and 
the  elevation  of  Bute;  between  the  treaty  negotiated  by 
Stf  John  and  the  treaty  negotiated  by  Bedford ;  between 
the  wrongs  of  the  House  of  Austria  in  1712  and  the 
wrongs  of  the  House  of  Brandenburg  in  1762.  This 
fancy  took  such  possession  of  the  old  man's  mind  that 
he  determined  to  leave  his  whole  property  to  Pitt.  In 
this  way  Pitt  unexpectedly  came  into  possession  of  near 
three  thousand  pounds  a  year.  Xor  could  all  the  malice 
of  his  enemies  find  any  ground  for  reproach  in  the  trans- 
action. Nobody  could  call  him  a  legacy  hunter.  Nobody 
could  accuse  him  of  seizing  that  to  which  others  had  a 
better  claim.  For  he  had  never  in  his  life  seen  Sir 
William;  and  Sir  William  had  left  no  relation  so  near  as 
to  bo  entitled  to  form  any  expectations  respecting  the 
estate. 

The  fortunes  of  Pitt  seemed  to  flourish ;  but  his  health 
was  worse  than  ever.  We  cannot  find  tliat,  during  the 
session  whidi  began  in  .January,  17G5,  he  once  appeared 
in  parliament.  He  remained  some  months  in  profound 
retirement  at  Hayes,  his  favorite  villa,  scarcely  moving 
except  from  his  armchair  to  his  bed,  and  from  his  bed 
to  his  armchair,  and  often  employing  his  wife  as  his 
amanuensis  in  his  most  confidential  correspondence. 
Some  of  his  dftraftors  whisjxTcd  that  his  invisil)ility  was 
to  bo  ascrii)c(l  (jiiite  as  much  to  alTcctation  as  to  gout.  Jn 
trtith  Ins  charar-ter,  high  and  si)len(li(l  as  it  was,  wanted 
8im|)liritj'.  With  genius  which  did  not  need  the  aid  of 
stage  tri<-ks,  and  with  a  spirit  which  should  have  been 
far  above  them,  he  had  yet  been,  through  life,  in  the  habit 
of  practising  tlu-ni.  It  was,  therefore,  now  surmised  that, 
having  acfjuired  all  the  consi(lerati(»n  which  couhl  be  dc- 


148  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

rived  from  eloquence  and  from  great  services  to  the  state, 
he  had  determined  not  to  make  himself  cheap  by  often 
appearing  in  public,  but,  under  the  pretext  of  ill  health, 
to  surround  himself  with  mystery,  to  emerge  only  at  long 
intervals  and  on  momentous  occasions,  and  at  other  times 
to  deliver  his  oracles  only  to  a  few  favored  votaries,  who 
were  suffered  to  make  pilgrimages  to  his  shrine.  If 
such  were  his  object,  it  was  for  a  time  fully  attained. 
Never  was  the  magic  of  his  name  so  powerful,  never 
was  he  regarded  by  his  country  with  such  supersti- 
tious veneration,  as  during  this  year  of  silence  and  se- 
clusion. 

While  Pitt  was  thus  absent  from  Parliament,  Grenville 
proposed  a  measure  destined  to  produce  a  great  revolu- 
tion, the  effects  of  which  will  long  be  felt  by  the  whole 
human  race.  We  speak  of  the  act  for  imposing  stamp 
duties  on  the  North  American  colonies.  The  plan  was 
eminently  characteristic  of  its  author.  Every  feature  of 
the  parent  was  found  in  the  child.  A  timid  statesman 
would  have  shrunk  from  a  step  of  which  Walpole,  at  a 
time  when  the  colonies  were  far  less  powerful,  had  said — 
"He  who  shall  propose  it,  will  be  a  much  bolder  man  than 
I."  But  the  nature  of  Grenville  was  insensible  to  fear. 
A  statesman  of  large  views  would  have  felt  that  to  lay 
taxes  at  Westminster  on  New  England  and  New  York, 
was  a  course  opposed,  not  indeed  to  the  letter  of  the 
Statute  Book,  or  to  any  decision  contained  in  the  Term 
Reports,  but  to  the  principles  of  good  government,  and 
to  the  spirit  of  the  constitution.  A  statesman  of  large 
views  would  also  have  felt  that  ten  times  the  estimated 
produce  of  the  American  stamps  would  have  been  dearly 
purchased  by  even  a  transient  (luarrel  between  the  mother 
country  and  the  colonies.  But  Grenville  knew  of  no 
spirit  of  the  constitution  distinct  from  the  letter  of  the 
law,  and  of  no  national  interests  except  those  which  are 
expressed  by  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence.  That  his  policy 
might  give  birth  to  deep  discontents  in  all  the  provinces, 
from  the  shore  of  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Mexican  sea; 
that  France  and  Spain  might  seize  the  opportunity  of 
revenge;  that  the  Empire  might  be  dismeml)ered;  that 
the  deltt,  that  debt  with  the  amount  of  which  he  per- 
petually  reproached   Pitt,   might   in   consequence  of   his 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  149 

own  policy,  be  doubled;  these  were  possibilities  which 
never  occurred  to  that  small,  sharp  mind. 

The  Stamp  Act  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  the  globe 
lasts.  But,  at  the  time,  it  attracted  much  less  notice  in 
this  country  than  another  Act  which  is  now  almost  utterly 
forgotten.  The  King  fell  ill,  and  was  thought  to  be  in  a 
dangerous  state.  His  complaint,  we  believe,  was  the  same 
which,  at  a  later  period,  repeatedly  incapacitated  him  for 
the  performance  of  his  regal  functions.  The  heir  appar- 
ent was  only  two  years  old.  It  was  clearly  proper  to  make 
provision  for  the  administration  of  the  government,  in 
case  of  a  minority.  The  discussions  on  this  point  brought 
the  quarrel  between  the  court  and  the  ministry  to  a  crisis. 
The  King  wished  to  be  intrusted  with  the  power  of 
naming  a  regent  by  will.  The  ministers  feared,  or 
affected  to  fear,  that,  if  this  power  were  conceded  to  him, 
he  would  name  the  Princess  Mother,  nay,  possibly  the 
Earl  of  Bute.  They,  therefore,  insisted  on  introducing 
into  the  bill  words  confining  the  King's  choice  to  the 
royal  family.  Having  thus  excluded  Bute,  they  urged 
the  King  to  let  them,  in  the  most  marked  manner,  exclude 
the  Princess  Dowager  also.  They  assured  him  that  the 
House  of  Commons  would  undoubtedly  strike  hor  name 
out,  and  by  this  throat  they  wrung  from  him  a  reluctant 
assent.  In  a  few  days,  it  appeared  that  the  representa- 
tions by  which  thoy  had  induced  the  King  to  put  this  gross 
and  public  affront  on  his  mother  were  unfounded.  The 
friends  of  the  Princess  in  the  House  of  Commons  moved 
that  her  name  should  be  inserted.  The  ministers  could 
not  decently  attack  the  parent  of  their  master.  They 
hoped  that  the  Opposition  would  come  to  their  help,  and 
put  on  thr-m  a  force  to  which  they  would  gladly  have 
yielded.  But  the  majority  of  the  Opposition,  though 
hating  the  Princess,  hated  Grenville  more,  IxOield  his 
embarrassment  with  delight,  and  would  do  nothing  to 
extricate  him  from  it.  The  Princess's  name  was  accord- 
ingly placed  in  the  list  of  persons  qualified  to  hold  the 
regency. 

The  King's  resentment  was  now  at  its  height.  The 
present  evil  seemed  to  him  more  intolerable  than  any 
other.  Even  the  jiinta  of  Whig  grnndces  could  not  treat 
him  worse  than  he  hsul  Itcen  treated  by  his  present  miu- 


150  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

isters.  In  his  distress  he  poured  out  his  whole  heart  to 
his  uncle,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland.  The  Duke  was  not 
a  man  to  be  loved;  but  he  was  eminently  a  man  to  be 
trusted.  He  had  an  intrepid  temper,  a  strong:  understand- 
ing, and  a  high  sense  of  honor  and  duty.  As  a  general, 
he  belonged  to  a  remarkable  class  of  captains,  captains, 
we  mean,  whose  fate  it  has  been  to  lose  almost  all  the 
battles  which  they  have  fought,  and  yet  to  be  reputed 
stout  and  skilful  soldiers.  Such  captains  were  Coligny 
and  William  the  Third.  We  might,  perhaps,  add  Marshal 
Soult  to  the  list.  The  bravery  of  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land was  such  as  distinguished  him  even  among  the 
princes  of  his  brave  house.  The  indifference  with  which 
he  rode  about  amidst  musket  balls  and  cannon  balls  was 
not  the  highest  proof  of  his  fortitude.  Hopeless  maladies, 
horrilile  surgical  operations,  far  from  unmanning  him, 
did  not  even  discompose  him.  With  courage,  he  had  the 
virtues  which  are  akin  to  courage.  He  spoke  the  truth, 
was  open  in  enmity  and  friendship,  and  upright  in  all  his 
dealings.  But  his  nature  was  hard;  and  what  seemed  to 
him  justice  was  rarely  tempered  with  mercy.  He  was, 
therefore,  during  many  years  one  of  the  most  unpopular 
men  in  England.  The  severity  with  which  he  had  treated 
the  rebels  after  the  battle  of  Culloden,  had  gained  for  him 
the  name  of  the  Butcher.  His  attempts  to  introduce  into 
the  army  of  England,  then  in  a  most  disorderly  state,  the 
rigorous  discipline  of  Potsdam,  had  excited  still  stronger 
disgust.  Nothing  was  too  bad  to  be  believed  of  him. 
Many  honest  people  were  so  absurd  as  to  fancy  that,  if 
he  were  left  Regent  during  the  minority  of  his  nephews, 
there  would  be  another  smothering  in  the  Tower.  These 
feelings,  however,  had  passed  away.  The  Duke  had  been 
living,  during  some  years,  in  retirement.  The  English, 
full  of  animosity  against  the  Scots,  now  blamed  his  Royal 
Highness  only  for  having  left  so  many  Camerons  and 
Macphersons  to  be  made  gangers  and  custom-house  officers. 
He  was,  therefore,  at  present,  a  favorite  with  his  country- 
men, and  especially  the  inhabitants  of  London. 

He  had  little  reason  to  love  the  King,  and  had  shown 
clearly,  though  not  obtrusively,  his  dislike  of  the  system 
which  had  lately  been  pursued.  But  he  had  high  and 
almost  romantic  notions  of  the  duty  which,  as  a  prince  of 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  151 

the  blood,  he  owed  to  the  head  of  his  house.  He  deter- 
mined to  extricate  his  nephew  from  bondage,  and  to  eli'eot 
a  reconciliation  between  the  Whig  party  and  the  throne, 
on  term?  honorable  to  both. 

In  this  mind  he  set  off  for  Hayes,  and  was  admitted 
to  Pitt's  sick  room ;  for  Pitt  would  not  leave  his  chamber, 
and  would  not  communicate  with  any  messenger  of  in- 
ferior dignity.  And  now  began  a  long  series  of  errors  on 
the  part  of  the  illustrious  statesman,  errors  which  in- 
volved his  country  in  difficulties  and  distresses  more  se- 
rious even  than  those  from  which  his  genius  had  formerly 
rescued  her.  His  language  was  haughty,  unreasonable, 
almost  unintelligible.  The  only  thing  which  could  be 
discerned  through  a  cloud  of  vague  and  not  very  gracious 
phrases,  was  that  he  would  not  at  that  moment  take 
office. 

The  truth,  we  believe,  was  this.  Lord  Temple,  who  was 
Pitt's  evil  genius,  had  just  formed  a  new  scheme  of 
politics.  Hatred  of  Bute  and  of  the  Princess  had,  it 
should  seem,  taken  entire  possession  of  Temple's  soul. 
He  had  quarreled  with  his  brother  George,  because  George 
had  been  connected  with  Bute  and  the  Princess.  Now 
that  George  appeared  to  l)e  the  enemy  of  Bute  and  of  the 
Princess,  Temple  was  eager  to  bring  about  a  general 
family  reconciliation.  The  three  brothers,  as  Temple, 
Grenville,  and  Pitt,  were  popularly  called,  might  make  a 
ministry,  without  leaning  for  aid  either  on  Bute  or  on 
thn  Whig  connection.  With  such  views.  Temple  used  all 
his  influence  to  dissuade  Pitt  from  acceding  to  the  propo- 
sitions of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland.  Pitt  was  not  con- 
vinced. But  Temple  had  an  influence  over  him  such  as 
no  other  person  had  ever  possessed.  They  were  very  old 
friends,  very  near  relations.  If  Pitt's  talents  and  fame 
had  been  useful  to  Temple,  Temple's  purse  had  formerly, 
in  times  of  great  need,  been  useful  to  Pitt.  They  had 
never  been  parted  in  politics.  Twice  they  had  come  into 
the  cabinet,  together;  twic-e  they  bad  left  it  together. 
Pitt  could  not  l)ear  to  think  of  taking  office  without  his 
chief  ally.  Yet  he  felt  tbi.t  he  was  doing  wrong,  that 
he  was  throwing  away  a  great  opportunity  of  serving 
his  country.  The  obscure  and  unconciliatory  style  of  tb<? 
answers  which  he  returned  to  the  overtures  of  the  Duke  of 


152  IIISTOIIICAL  ESSAYS 

C'ximberland,  may  be  ascribed  to  the  embarrassment  and 
vexation  of  a  mind  not  at  peaee  with  itself.  It  is  said 
that  he  mournfully  exclaimed  to  Temple, 

"Exstinxti  to  moque,  soror,  populumquc,  patrcsque 
Sidonios,  urbenique  tuaiii."  * 

The  prediction  was  but  too  just. 

Finding  Pitt  impracticable,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
advised  the  King  to  submit  to  necessity,  and  to  keep 
Grenville  and  the  Bedfords.  It  was,  indeed,  not  a  time 
at  which  offices  could  safely  be  left  vacant.  The  un- 
settled state  of  the  government  had  produced  a  general 
relaxation  through  all  the  departments  of  the  public 
service.  Meetings,  which  at  another  time  would  have 
been  harmless,  now  turned  to  riots,  and  rapidly  rose 
almost  to  the  dignity  of  rebellions.  The  Houses  of  Par- 
liament were  blockaded  by  the  Spitalfields  weavers.  Bed- 
ford House  was  assailed  on  all  sides  by  a  furious  rabble, 
and  was  strongly  garrisoned  with  horse  and  foot.  Some 
people  attributed  these  disturbances  to  the  friends  of 
Bute,  and  some  to  the  friends  of  Wilkes.  But,  whatever 
might  be  the  cause,  the  effect  was  general  insecurity. 
Under  such  circumstances  the  King  had  no  choice.  With 
bitter  feelings  of  mortification,  he  informed  the  ministers 
that  ho  meant  to  retain  them. 

They  answered  by  demanding  from  him  a  promise  on 
his  royal  word  never  more  to  consult  Lord  Bute.  The 
promise  was  given.  They  then  demanded  something  more. 
Lord  Bute's  I)rother,  Mr.  Mackenzie,  held  a  lucrative  office 
in  Scotland.  Mr.  Mackenzie  must  be  dismissed.  The 
King  replied  that  the  office  had  been  given  under  very 
peculiar  circumstances,  and  that  he  had  promised  never 
to  take  it  away  while  he  lived.  Grenville  was  obstinate; 
and  the  King,  with  a  very  bad  grace,  yielded. 

The  session  of  Parliament  was  over.  The  triumph  of 
the  ministers  was  coniT)lete.  The  King  was  almost  as 
much  a  prisoner  as  Charles  the  First  had  been,  when 
in  the  Isle  of  Wight.     Such  were  the  fruits  of  the  policy 

•  "Thou  hast  brou{,'ht  ruin  upon  thysolf  and  me,  O  sister,  and 
upon  thy  i)C'oplc,  and  the  princes  of  Sidon,  and  thy  city."  These 
were  the  words  of  Dido's  sister  to  the  dying  queen  in  the  fourth 
book  of  the  JKiwid. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  153 

which,  only  a  few  months  before,  was  represented  as 
havinp:  for  ever  secured  the  throne  ag-ainst  the  dictation 
of  insolent  subjects. 

His  Majesty's  natural  resentment  showed  itself  in  every 
look  and  word.  In  his  extremity  he  looked  wistfully 
towards  that  Whig  connection,  once  the  object  of  his 
dread  and  hatred.  The  Duke  of  Devonshire,  who  had 
been  treated  with  such  unjustifiable  harshness,  had  lately 
died,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  his  son,  who  was  still 
a  boy.  The  King  condescended  to  express  his  regret  for 
what  had  passed,  and  to  invite  the  young  Duke  to  court. 
The  noble  youth  came,  attended  by  his  uncles,  and  wa3 
TQfeived  with  marked  graciousness. 

This  and  many  other  symptoms  of  the  same  kind 
irritated  the  ministers.  They  had  still  in  store  for  their 
sovereign  an  insult  which  would  have  provoked  his  grand- 
father to  kick  them  out  of  the  room.  Grenville  and  Bod- 
ford  demanded  an  audience  of  him,  and  read  him  a 
remonstrance  of  many  pages,  which  they  had  drawn  up 
with  great  care.  His  Majesty  was  accused  of  breaking 
his  word,  and  of  treating  his  advisers  with  gross  unfair- 
ness. The  Princess  was  mentioned  in  language  by  no 
means  eulogistic.  Hints  were  thrown  out  that  Bute's 
head  was  in  danger.  The  King  was  plainly  told  that  he 
must  not  continue  to  show,  as  he  had  done,  that  he  dis- 
liked the  situation  in  which  he  was  placed,  that  he  must 
frown  upon  the  Opposition,  that  he  must  carry  it  fair 
towards  his  ministers  in  pii])lic.  He  several  times  inter- 
rupted the  reading  by  declaring  that  he  had  ceased  to 
hold  any  commimication  with  Bute.  But  the  ministers, 
disregarding  his  denial,  went  on;  and  the  ICing  listejied 
in  silence,  ;iIin<Kt  ehnked  by  rage.  Wlieii  tiny  ceased  to 
read,  ho  merely  made  a  gesture  expressive  of  his  wish  to 
he  left  alone.  He  afterward  owned  that  he  fliought  he 
shonld  have  gone  into  a  fit. 

Driven  to  despair,  he  again  had  recourse  to  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland;  and  fbe  Duke  of  Cumberland  again  bad 
recourse  to  Pitt.  I'itt  was  really  desirous  to  undertake 
the  flireetion  of  affairs,  and  owned,  with  nmtiy  (iutiful 
expressions,  that  the  terms  offereil  by  tlie  I\ing  were  all 
that  any  siibjeet  could  desire.  But  'I'ein|)]e  was  iinprac- 
ticalde;    and    Pitt,    witli    great    regret,    d('clared    that   he 


154  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

could  not,  without  the  concurrence  of  his  hrother-in-law, 
undertake  the  administration. 

The  Duke  now  saw  only  one  way  of  dolivorinj^  lu3 
nephew.  An  administration  must  be  formed  of  the  Whigs 
in  opposition,  without  Pitt's  help.  The  diificulties  seemed 
almost  insuperable.  Death  and  desertion  had  fj^rievously 
thinned  the  ranks  of  the  party  lately  supreme  in  the  state. 
Those  amonf?  whom  the  Duke's  choice  lay  might  be  di- 
vided into  two  classes,  men  too  old  for  important  offices, 
and  men  who  had  never  been  in  any  important  office 
before.  The  cabinet  must  be  composed  of  broken  invalids 
or  of  raw  recruits. 

This  was  an  evil,  yet  not  an  unmixed  evil.  If  the  new 
Whig  statesmen  had  little  experience  in  business  and 
debate,  they  were,  on  the  other  hand,  pure  from  the  taint 
of  that  political  immorality  which  had  deeply  infected 
their  predecessors.  Long  prosperity  had  corrupted  that 
great  party  which  had  expelled  the  Stuarts,  limited  the 
prerogatives  of  the  Crown,  and  curbed  the  intolerance 
of  the  Hierarchy.  Adversity  had  already  produced  a 
salutary  effect.  On  the  day  of  the  accession  of  George 
the  Third,  the  ascendency  of  the  Whig  party  terminated; 
and  on  that  day  the  purification  of  the  Whig  party  began. 
The  rising  chiefs  of  that  party  were  men  of  a  very  differ- 
ent sort  from  Sandys  and  Winnington,  from  Sir  William 
Yonge  and  Henry  Fox.  They  were  men  w^orthy  to  have 
charged  by  the  side  of  Hampden  at  Chalgrove,  or  to  have 
exchanged  the  last  embrace  with  Russell  on  the  scaffold 
in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  They  carried  into  politics  the 
same  high  principles  of  virtue  which  regulated  their  pri- 
vate dealings,  nor  would  they  stoop  to  promote  even  the 
noblest  and  most  salutary  ends  by  means  which  honor 
and  probity  condemn.  Such  men  were  Lord  John  Caven- 
dish, Sir  Ceorge  Savile,  and  others  whom  we  hold  in 
honor  as  the  second  founders  of  the  Whig  party,  as  the 
restorers  of  its  pristine  health  and  energy  after  half  a 
century  of  degeneracy. 

The  chief  of  this  respectable  band  was  the  Marquess  of 
Rockingham,  a  man  of  splendid  fortune,  excellent  sense, 
and  stainless  character.  He  was  indeed  nervous  to  such 
a  degree  that,  to  the  very  close  of  his  life,  he  never  rose 
without  great  reluctance  and  embarrassment  to   address 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  155 

the  House  of  Lords.  But,  though  not  a  great  orator,  he 
had  in  a  high  degree  some  of  the  qualities  of  a  statesman. 
He  chose  liis  friends  well ;  and  he  had,  in  an  extraordinary 
degree,  the  art  of  attaching  them  to  him  by  ties  of  the 
most  honorable  kind.  The  cheerful  fidelity  with  which 
they  adhered  to  him  through  many  years  of  almost  hope- 
less opposition  was  less  admirable  than  the  disinterested- 
ness and  delicacy  whieli  they  showed  when  he  rose  to 
power. 

We  are  inclined  to  think  that  the  use  and  the  abuse  of 
party  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  by  a  parallel  be- 
tween two  powerful  connections  of  that  time,  the  Rock- 
inghams  and  the  Bedfords.  The  Rockingham  party  was, 
in  our  view,  exactly  what  a  party  should  be.  It  consisted 
of  men  bound  together  by  connnon  opinions,  by  common 
public  objects,  by  mutual  esteem.  That  they  desired  to 
olitain,  by  honest  and  constitutional  means,  the  direction 
of  affairs  they  openly  avowed.  But,  though  often  invited 
to  accept  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  office,  they 
steadily  refuserl  to  do  so  on  any  conditions  inconsistent 
with  their  principles.  The  Bedford  party,  as  a  party, 
had.  as  far  as  we  can  discover,  no  principle  whatever. 
Rigby  and  Saudwich  wanted  public  money,  and  thought 
that  thoy  should  fetch  a  higher  price  jointly  than  singly. 
Tlioy  therefore  acted  in  concert,  and  prevailed  on  a  much 
more  important  and  a  much  better  man  than  themselves 
to  act  with  them. 

It  was  to  Rockingham  that  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
now  had  recourse.  The  Marquess  consented  to  take  the 
treasury.  Xeweastle,  so  long  the  recognized  chief  of  the 
Wbigs,  could  not  well  be  excluded  from  the  ministry. 
He  was  appointed  keeper  of  the  privy  seal.  A  very  lionest 
flear-headed  country  gentleman,  of  the  name  of  Dowdes- 
well,  became  riiancellor  of  the  Kxclieiiuer.  (Jeneral  Con- 
way, who  had  served  under  the  Oiikc  of  C'ujnlierland,  and 
was  strongly  attached  to  his  royal  higlnu'ss,  was  made 
Secretary  of  State,  witli  tlie  lead  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. A  great  Whig  nobleman,  in  the  prime  of  maidiood, 
from  wbr.ni  mnch  was  at.  that  time  expected,  Augustus 
Duke  of  firaftf)ri,  was  the  other  Secretary. 

The  oldest  man  living  could  r<  iinnibcr  no  government 
so   weak    in   oratorical   talents   and    in   ofTicial   experience. 


156  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Tlie  general  opinion  was,  that  the  ministers  might  hold 
oflice  during  the  recess,  but  that  the  first  day  of  debate 
in  Parliament  would  be  the  last  day  of  their  power. 
Charles  Townshend  was  asked  what  he  thought  of  the  new 
administration.  "It  is,"'  said  he,  "mere  lute-string;  pretty 
summer  wear.    It  will  never  do  for  the  winter," 

At  this  conjuncture  Lord  Rockingham  had  the  wisdom 
to  discern  the  value,  and  secure  the  aid,  of  an  ally,  who, 
to  eloquence  surpassing  the  eloquence  of  Pitt,  and  to 
industry  which  shamed  the  industry  of  Grenville,  united 
an  amplitude  of  comprehension  to  which  neither  Pitt  nor 
Grenville  could  lay  claim.  A  young  Irishman  had,  some 
time  before,  come  over  to  push  his  fortune  in  London. 
He  had  written  much  for  the  booksellers ;  but  he  was  best 
known  by  a  little  treatise,  in  which  the  style  and  reason- 
ing of  Bolingbroke  were  mimicked  with  exquisite  skill, 
and  liy  a  theory,  of  more  ingenuity  than  soundness,  touch- 
ing the  pleasures  which  we  receive  from  the  objects  of 
taste.  He  had  also  attained  a  high  reputation  as  a  talker, 
and  was  regarded  by  the  men  of  letters  who  supped  to- 
geth(>r  at  the  Turk's  Head  as  the  only  match  in  conversa- 
tion for  Dr.  Johnson.  He  now  became  private  secretary 
to  Lord  Rockingham,  and  was  brought  into  Parliament 
by  his  patron's  influence.  These  arrangements,  indeed, 
were  not  made  without  some  difficulty.  The  Duke  of 
Xewcastle,  who  was  always  meddling  and  chattering, 
adjured  the  first  lord  of  the  treasury  to  be  on  his  guard 
against  this  adventurer,  whose  real  name  was  O'Bourke, 
and  whom  his  grace  knew  to  be  a  wild  Irishman,  a 
Jacoliite,  a  Papist,  a  concealed  Jesuit.  Lord  Rockingham 
treated  the  calumny  as  it  deserved ;  and  the  Whig  party 
was  strengthened  and  adorned  by  the  accession  of  Edmund 
Burke. 

The  party,  indeed,  stood  in  need  of  accessions;  for  it 
sustained  about  this  time  an  almost  irreparable  loss. 
The  Duke  of  Cumberland  had  formed  the  government, 
and  was  its  main  support.  His  exalted  rank  and  great 
name  in  some  degree  ])alanced  the  fame  of  Pitt.  As 
mediator  between  the  Whigs  and  the  Court,  he  held  a 
place  which  no  other  person  could  fill.  The  strength  of 
his  character  supplied  that  which  was  the  chief  defect  of 
the    new    ministry.      Conway,    in    particular,    who,    with 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  157 

excellent  intentions  and  respectable  talents,  was  the  most 
dependent  and  irresolute  of  human  beings,  drew  from 
the  counsels  of  that  masculine  mind  a  determination  not 
his  own.  Before  the  meeting  of  Parliament  the 
Duke  suddenly  died.  His  death  was  generally  regarded 
as  the  signal  of  great  troubles,  and  on  this  account, 
as  well  as  from  respect  for  his  personal  qualities,  was 
greatly  lamented.  It  was  remarked  that  the  moairn- 
ing  in  London  was  the  most  general  ever  known,  and 
was  both  deeper  and  longer  than  the  Gazette  had  pre- 
scribed. 

In  the  mean  time,  every  mail  from  America  brought 
alarming  tidings.  The  crop  which  Grenville  had  sown 
his  successors  had  now  to  reap.  The  colonies  were  in  a 
state  bordering  on  rebellion.  The  stamps  were  burned. 
The  revenue  officers  were  tarred  and  feathered.  All 
traffic  between  the  discontented  provinces  and  the  mother 
country  was  interrupted.  The  Exchange  of  London  was 
in  dismay.  Half  the  firms  of  Bristol  and  Liverpool  were 
threatened  with  bankruptcy.  In  Leeds,  Manchester,  Not- 
tingham, it  was  said  that  three  artisans  out  of  every  ten 
had  been  turned  adrift.  Civil  war  seemed  to  be  at  hand ; 
and  it  could  not  be  doubted  that,  if  once  the  British 
nation  were  divided  against  itself,  France  and  Spain 
would  soon  take  part  in  the  quarrel. 

Three  courses  wore  open  to  the  ministers.  The  first 
was  to  enforce  the  Stamp  Act  by  the  sword.  This  was 
the  course  on  which  the  King,  and  Grenville,  whom  the 
King  hated  beyond  all  living  men,  were  alike  bent.  The 
natures  of  both  were  arbitrary  and  .stui)l)()rn.  They  re- 
sembled each  other  so  much  that  they  could  never  be 
frienfls;  but  they  resemlilcd  each  other  also  so  much  that 
they  saw  almost  all  important  practical  questions  in  the 
same  point  of  view.  Neither  of  them  would  l)ear  to  be 
governed  l»y  the  other;  liut  they  were  perfectly  agreed  as 
to  th(!  best  way  of  governing  the  people. 

Another  course  was  that  which  Pitt  recomiriended. 
He  held  that  the  British  Parliament  was  not  constitution- 
ally compjctent  to  pass  a  law  for  taxing  ibc;  colonies.  He 
therefore  considered  the  Staiiii)  Act  as  a  nullity,  as  a 
document  of  no  more  valiflify  tlian  Cliarles's  writ  of 
ship-money,  or  Jaiucs's  proclamation  dispensing  with  the 


158  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

penal  laws.  This  doctrine  seems  to  us,  we  must  own,  to 
be  altogether  untenable. 

Between  these  extreme  courses  lay  a  third  way.  The 
opinion  of  the  most  judicious  and  temperate  statesman 
of  those  times  was  that  the  British  constitution  had  set 
no  limit  whatever  to  the  legislative  power  of  the  British 
King,  Lords,  and  Commons,  over  the  whole  British  Em- 
pire. Parliament,  they  held,  was  legally  competent  to 
tax  America,  as  Parliament  was  legally  competent  to 
commit  any  other  act  of  folly  or  wickedness,  to  confiscate 
the  property  of  all  the  merchants  in  Lombard  Street,  or 
to  attaint  any  man  in  the  kingdom  of  high  treason,  with- 
out examining  witnesses  against  him,  or  hearing  him  in 
his  own  defense.  The  most  atrocious  act  of  confiscation 
or  of  attainder  is  just  as  valid  an  act  as  the  Toleration 
Act  or  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act.  But  from  acts  of  confisca- 
tion and  acts  of  attainder  lawgivers  are  bound,  by  every 
obligation  of  morality,  systematically  to  refrain.  In  the 
same  manner  oiight  the  British  legislature  to  refrain 
from  taxing  the  American  colonies.  The  Stamp  Act  was 
indcfcnsil)lc,  not  because  it  was  beyond  the  constitutional 
competence  of  Parliament,  but  because  it  was  unjust  and 
impolitic,  sterile  of  revenue,  and  fertile  of  discontents. 
These  sound  doctrines  were  adopted  by  Lord  Rockingham 
and  his  colleagues,  and  were,  during  a  long  course  of 
years,  inculcated  by  Burke,  in  orations,  some  of  which 
will  last  as  long  as  the  English  language. 

The  winter  came,  the  Parliament  met;  and  the  state 
of  the  colonics  instantly  became  the  subject  of  fierce  con- 
tention. Pitt,  whose  health  had  been  somewhat  restored 
by  the  waters  of  Bath,  reappeared  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, and.  with  ardent  and  pathetic  eloquence,  not  only 
condemned  the  Stamp  Act,  but  applauded  the  resistance 
of  Massachusetts  and  Virginia,  and  vehemently  main- 
tained, in  defiance,  we  must  say,  of  all  reason  and  of  all 
authority,  that,  according  to  the  British  constitution, 
the  supreme  legislative  power  does  not  include  the  power 
to  tax.  The  language  of  Oronville,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  such  as  Strafford  might  have  used  at  the  council 
table  of  Charles  the  First,  when  news  came  of  the  resist- 
ance to  the  liturgy  at  Ediiil)urgh.  The  colonists  were 
traitors;  those  who  excused  them  were  little  better.    Frig- 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  159 

ates,  mortars,  bayonets,  sabers,  were  the  proper  remedies 
for  such  distempers. 

The  ministers  occupied  an  intermediate  position;  they 
proposed  to  declare  that  the  legislative  authority  of  the 
British  Parliament  over  the  whole  Empire  was  in  all 
cases  supreme;  and  they  proposed,  at  the  same  time,  to 
repeal  the  Stamp  Act.  To  the  former  measure  Pitt  ob- 
jected ;  but  it  was  carried  with  scarcely  a  dissenting  voice. 
The  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  Pitt  strongly  supported; 
but  against  the  Government  was  arrayed  a  formidable 
assemblage  of  opponents.  Grenville  and  the  Bedfords 
were  furious.  Temple,  who  had  now  allied  himself  closely 
with  his  brother,  and  separated  himself  from  Pitt,  was 
no  despicable  enemy.  This,  however,  was  not  the  worst. 
The  ministry  was  without  its  natural  strength.  It  had  a 
struggle,  not  only  against  its  avowed  enemies,  but  against 
the  insidious  hostility  of  the  King,  and  of  a  set  of  persons 
who,  about  this  time,  began  to  be  designated  as  the  King's 
friends. 

The  character  of  this  faction  has  been  drawn  by  Burke 
with  even  more  than  his  usual  force  and  vivacity.  Those 
who  know  how  strongly,  through  his  whole  life,  his  judg- 
ment was  biassed  by  his  passions,  may  not  unnaturally 
suspect  that  he  has  left  us  rather  a  caricature  than  a 
likeness;  and  yet  there  is  scarcely,  in  the  whole  portrait, 
a  single  touch  of  which  the  fidelity  is  not  proved  by  facts 
of  unquestionable  autlienticity. 

The  public  goncrallj'  regarded  the  King's  friends  as  a 
body  of  which  Bute  was  tlie  directing  soul.  It  was  to  no 
purpose  that  the  Earl  professed  to  have  done  with  politics, 
that  ho  absented  himself  year  after  year  from  tlie  levee 
and  the  drawing-room,  that  he  went  to  the  north,  that 
he  went  to  Rome.  The  notion  that,  in  some  inexplicable 
manner,  he  diftatcd  all  tlie  measures  of  the  court,  was 
fixed  in  the  minds,  not  only  of  the  multitude,  but  of  some 
who  had  good  opf)ortunities  of  obtaining  information,  and 
who  ought  to  have  lieen  superior  to  vulgar  jircjiidices. 
Our  own  belief  is  that  these  suspicions  were  unfounded, 
and  that  he  ceased  to  have  any  communication  with  the 
King  on  politi<-al  matters  some  time  before  the  dismissal 
of  George  Grenville.  The  supposition  of  Bute's  inllucnco 
is,   indeed,   by   no   means   necessary   to   explain    the   phe- 


IGO  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

noniona.  The  Kinp:,  in  1765,  was  no  longer  the  ignorant 
and  inexperienced  boy  who  had,  in  1760,  been  managed 
by  his  mother  and  his  Groom  of  the  Stole.  He  had,  dur- 
ing several  years,  observed  the  struggles  of  parties,  and 
conferred  daily  on  high  questions  of  state  with  able 
and  experienced  politicians.  His  way  of  life  had  de- 
veloped his  understanding  and  character.  He  was  now 
no  longer  a  puppet,  but  had  very  decided  opinions  both 
of  men  and  things.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than 
that  ho  should  have  high  notions  of  his  own  prerogatives, 
should  be  impatient  of  opposition,  and  should  wish  all 
public  men  to  be  detached  from  each  other  and  dependent 
on  himself  alone;  nor  could  anything  be  more  natural 
than  that,  in  the  state  in  which  the  political  world  then 
was,  he  should  find  instruments  fit  for  his  purposes. 

Thus  sprang  into  existence  and  into  note  a  reptile 
species  of  politicians  never  before  and  never  since  known 
in  our  country.  These  men  disclaimed  all  political  ties, 
except  those  which  bound  them  to  the  throne.  They  were 
willing  to  coalesce  with  any  party,  to  abandon  any  party, 
to  undermine  any  party,  to  assault  any  party,  at  a 
moment's  notice.  To  them,  all  administrations  and  all 
oppositions  were  the  same.  They  regarded  Bute,  Gren- 
ville,  Rockingham,  Pitt,  without  one  sentiment  either  of 
predilection  or  of  aversion.  They  were  the  King's  friends. 
It  is  to  be  observed  that  this  friendship  implied  no  per- 
sonal intimacy.  These  people  had  never  lived  with  their 
master,  as  Dodington  at  one  time  lived  with  his  father, 
or  as  Sheridan  afterward  lived  with  his  son.  They  never 
hunted  with  him  in  the  morning,  or  played  cards  with 
him  in  the  evening,  never  shared  his  mutton  or  walked 
with  him  among  his  turnips.  Only  one  or  two  of  them 
ever  saw  his  face,  except  on  public  days.  The  whole  band, 
however,  always  had  early  and  accurate  information  as 
to  his  personal  inclinations.  None  of  these  people  were 
high  in  the  administration.  They  were  generally  to  be 
found  in  places  of  much  emolument,  little  labor,  and  no 
responsibility;  and  these  places  they  continued  to  occupy 
securely  while  the  cabinet  was  six  or  seven  times  recon- 
structed. Their  peculiar  business  was  not  to  support 
the  ministry  against  the  opposition,  but  to  support  the 
King  against  the  ministry.     Whenever  his  Majesty  was 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  161 

induced  to  grive  a  reluctant  assent  to  the  introduction  of 
some  bill  which  his  constitutional  advisers  regarded  as 
necessary,  his  friends  in  the  House  of  Commons  were 
sure  to  speak  against  it,  to  vote  against  it,  to  throw  in 
its  way  every  obstruction  compatible  with  the  forms  of 
Parliament.  If  his  Majesty  found  it  necessary  to  admit 
into  his  closet  a  Secretary  of  State  or  a  First  Lord  of 
the  Treasury  whom  he  disliked,  his  friends  were  sure  to 
miss  no  opportunity  of  thwarting  and  humbling  the 
obnoxious  minister.  In  return  for  these  services,  the 
King  covered  them  with  his  protection.  It  was  to  no 
purpose  that  his  responsible  servants  complained  to  him 
that  they  were  daily  betrayed  and  impeded  by  men  who 
were  eating  the  bread  of  the  government.  He  sometimes 
justified  the  offenders,  sometimes  excused  them,  some- 
times owned  that  they  were  to  blame,  but  said  that  he 
must  take  time  to  consider  whether  he  could  part  with 
them.  He  never  would  turn  them  out;  and,  while  every- 
thing else  in  the  state  was  constantly  changing,  these 
sycophants  seemed  to  have  a  life  estate  in  their  offices. 

It  was  well  known  to  the  King's  friends  that,  though 
his  Majesty  had  consented  to  the  repeal  of  the  Stamp 
Act,  he  had  consented  with  a  very  bad  grace,  and  that 
though  he  had  eagerly  welcomed  the  Whigs,  when,  in  his 
extreme  need  and  at  his  earnest  entreaty,  they  had  under- 
taken to  free  him  from  an  insupportable  yoke,  he  had  by 
no  means  got  over  his  early  ])r{jii(lices  against  his  de- 
liverers. The  ministers  soon  found  that,  while  they  were 
encountered  in  front  by  the  whole  force  of  a  strong  oppo- 
sition, their  rear  was  assailed  l)y  a  large  body  of  those 
whom  they  had  regarded  as  auxiliaries. 

Nevertheless,  Lord  Kockiiigliam  and  his  adlicrcnts  went 
on  resolutely  with  th(;  bill  for  repealing  the  Stamp  Act. 
They  had  on  tlieir  side  all  the  manufacturing  and  coin- 
mereial  interests  of  the  realm.  In  the  (l('l)ates  the  gov- 
erimient  was  powerfully  suitported.  Two  great  orators 
and  statesmen,  belonging  to  two  different  generations, 
repeatedly  j»nt  ffirth  all  their  jxiwcrs  in  defense  of  the 
bill.  The  House  of  Coininons  heard  Pitt  for  the  last  time, 
and  Burke  for  the  first  time,  and  was  in  doubt  to  which 
of  tlurn  the  palm  f)f  elorpieiiee  should  be  assigned.  It  was 
indeed  a  splendid  sunset  an<l  a  splendid  dawn. 


162  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

For  a  time  the  event  seemed  doubtful.  In  several 
divisions  the  ministers  were  hard  pressed.  On  one  occa- 
sion, not  less  than  twelve  of  the  King's  friends,  all  men 
in  office,  voted  atrninst  the  government.  It  was  to  no 
purpose  that  Lord  Rockingham  remonstrated  with  the 
King.  His  Majesty  confessed  that  there  was  ground  for 
complaint,  but  hoped  that  gentle  means  would  bring  the 
mutineers  to  a  better  mind.  If  they  persisted  in  their 
misconduct,  he  would  dismiss  them. 

At  length  the  decisive  day  arrived.  The  gallery,  the 
lobby,  the  Court  of  Requests,  the  staircases,  were  crowded 
with  merchants  from  all  the  great  ports  of  the  island. 
The  debate  lasted  till  long  after  midnight.  On  the 
division,  the  ministers  had  a  great  majority.  The  dread 
of  civil  war,  and  the  outcry  of  all  the  trading  towns  of 
the  kingdom,  had  been  too  strong  for  the  combined 
strength  of  the  court  and  the  opposition. 

It  was  in  the  first  dim  twilight  of  a  February  morning 
that  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  that  the  chiefs  of 
the  hostile  parties  showed  themselves  to  the  multitude. 
Conway  was  received  with  loud  applause.  But,  when  Pitt 
appeared,  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  alone.  All  hats  were 
in  the  air.  Loud  and  long  huzzas  accompanied  him  to 
his  chair,  and  a  train  of  admirers  escorted  him  all  the 
way  to  his  home.  Then  came  forth  Grenville.  As  soon 
as  he  was  recognized,  a  storm  of  hisses  and  curses  broke 
forth.  He  turned  fiercely  on  the  crowd,  and  caught  one 
man  by  the  throat.  The  bystanders  were  in  great  alarm. 
If  a  scuffle  began,  none  could  say  how  it  might  end.  For- 
tunately the  person  wlio  had  been  collared  only  said,  "If 
I  may  not  hiss,  sir,  I  hope  I  may  laugli,"  and  laughed 
in  Orenville's  face. 

The  majority  had  been  so  decisive,  that  all  the  op- 
ponents of  the  ministry,  save  one,  were  disposed  to  let 
the  bill  pass  without  any  further  contention.  But  solici- 
tation and  expostulation  were  thrown  away  on  Grenville. 
His  indomitable  spirit  rose  up  stronger  and  stronger 
under  the  load  of  public  hatred.  He  fought  out  the  battle 
obstinately  to  the  end.  On  the  last  reading  he  had  a 
sharp  altercation  with  his  brother-in-law,  the  last  of  their 
many  sharp  altercations.  Pitt  thundered  in  his  loftiest 
tones  against  the  man  who  had  wislied  to  dip  the  ermine 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  163 

of  a  British  King  in  the  blood  of  the  British  people. 
Grenville  replied  with  his  wonted  intrepidity  and  asperity. 
"If  the  tax,"  he  said,  "were  still  to  be  laid  on,  I  would 
lay  it  on.  For  the  evils  which  it  may  produce  my  accuser 
is  answerable.  His  profusion  made  it  necessary.  His 
declarations  against  the  constitutional  powers  of  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons,  have  made  it  doubly  necessary.  I 
do  not  envy  him  the  huzza.  I  glory  in  the  hiss.  If  it 
were  to  be  done  again,  I  would  do  it." 

The  repeal  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  the  chief  measure  of 
Lord  Rockingham's  government.  But  that  government 
is  entitled  to  the  praise  of  having  put  a  stop  to  two 
oppressive  practices,  which,  in  Wilkes's  case,  had  attracted 
the  notice  and  excited  the  just  indignation  of  the  public. 
The  House  of  Commons  was  induced  by  the  ministers 
to  pass  a  resolution  condemning  the  use  of  general  war- 
rants, and  another  resolution,  condemning  the  seizure  of 
papers  in  cases  of  libel. 

It  must  be  added,  to  the  lasting  honor  of  Lord  Rock- 
ingham, that  his  administration  was  the  first  which, 
during  a  long  course  of  years,  had  the  courage  and  the 
virtue  to  refrain  from  bribing  members  of  Parliament. 
His  enemies  accused  him  and  his  friends  of  weakness,  of 
haughtiness,  of  party  spirit;  but  calumny  itself  never 
dared  to  couple  his  name  with  corruption. 

Unhappily  his  government,  though  one  of  the  best 
that  has  ever  existed  in  our  country,  was  also  one  of  the 
weakest.  The  King's  friends  assailed  and  obstructed  the 
ministers  at  every  turn.  To  appeal  to  the  King  was 
only  to  draw  forth  new  promises  and  new  evasions.  His 
Majesty  was  sure  that  there  must  V)e  some  misunderstand- 
ing. Lord  Rockingham  had  better  speak  to  the  gentle- 
men. They  should  be  dismissed  on  the  next  fault.  The 
next  fault  was  soon  r-ommittcd,  and  his  Majesty  still 
continued  to  shuffle.  It  was  too  bad.  It  was  quite  abom- 
inable; but  it  matterefl  less  as  the  prorogation  was  at 
hand.  He  would  give  the  delinquents  one  more  chance. 
If  they  (lid  iK»t  alter  their  conduct  next  session,  be  should 
not  have  one  word  to  say  for  them.  He  had  already 
resolved  thsit,  long  before  the  commejicenn-nt  of  the  next 
session,  T^ord  Itockingham  should  cease  to  be  minister. 

We  have  now  come  to  a  part  of  our  story  which,  admir- 


164  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

injr  as  we  do  the  genius  and  the  many  noMe  qualities  of 
Pitt,  we  eannot  relate  without  much  pain.  We  believe 
that,  at  this  conjuncture,  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  give 
the  victory  either  to  tlie  Whigs  or  to  the  King's  friends. 
If  he  had  allied  himself  closely  with  Lord  Rockingham, 
what  could  the  court  have  done?  There  would  have  been 
only  one  alternative,  the  Whigs  or  Grenville;  and  there 
could  be  no  doubt  what  the  King's  choice  would  be.  He 
still  remembered,  as  well  he  might,  with  the  utmost 
bitterness,  the  thraldom  from  which  his  uncle  had  freed 
him,  and  said  about  this  time,  with  great  vehemence,  that 
he  would  sooner  see  the  Devil  come  into  his  closet  than 
Orenville. 

And  what  was  there  to  prevent  Pitt  from  allying  him- 
self with  Lord  Rockingham?  On  all  the  most  important 
questions  their  views  were  the  same.  They  had  agreed 
in  condemning  the  peace,  the  Stamp  Act,  the  general 
warrants,  the  seizure  of  papers.  The  points  on  which 
they  differed  were  few  and  unimportant.  In  integrity,  in 
disinterestedness,  in  hatred  of  corruption,  they  resembled 
each  other.  Their  personal  interests  could  not  clash. 
They  sat  in  different  houses,  and  Pitt  had  always  declared 
that  nothing  should  induce  him  to  be  first  lord  of  the 
treasury. 

If  the  opportunity  of  forming  a  coalition  beneficial  to 
the  state,  and  honorable  to  all  concerned,  was  suffered  to 
escape,  the  fault  was  not  with  the  Whig  ministers.  They 
behaved  toward  Pitt  with  an  obsequiousness  which,  had 
it  not  been  the  effect  of  sincere  admiration  and  of  anxiety 
for  the  public  interests,  might  have  been  justly  called 
servile.  They  repeatedly  gave  him  to  understand  that, 
if  he  chose  to  join  their  ranks,  they  were  ready  to  receive 
him,  not  as  an  associate,  but  as  a  leader.  They  had 
proved  their  respect  for  him  by  bestowing  a  peerage  on 
the  person  who,  at  that  time,  enjoyed  the  largest  share 
of  his  confidence,  Chief  Justice  Pratt.  What  then  was 
there  to  divide  Pitt  from  the  Whigs?  What,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  there  in  common  between  him  and  the  King's 
friends,  that  he  should  lend  himself  to  their  purposes,  he 
who  had  never  owed  anything  to  flattery  or  intrigue,  he 
whose  eloquence  and  independent  spirit  had  overawed 
two  generations  of  slaves  and  jobbers,  he  who  had  twice 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  165 

been  forced  by  the  enthusiasm  of  an  admiring  nation  on 
a  reluctant  Prince? 

Unhappily  the  court  had  gained  Pitt,  not,  it  is  true,  by 
those  ignoble  means  which  were  employed  when  such  men 
as  Rigby  and  Wedderburn  were  to  be  won,  but  by  allure- 
ments suited  to  a  nature  noble  even  in  its  aberrations. 
The  King  set  himself  to  seduce  the  one  man  who  could 
turn  the  Whigs  out  without  letting  Grenville  in.  Praise, 
caresses,  promises,  were  lavished  on  the  idol  of  the  nation. 
He,  and  he  alone,  could  put  an  end  to  faction,  could  bid 
defiance  to  all  the  powerful  connections  in  the  land 
united,  Whigs  and  Tories,  Eockinghams,  Bedfords,  and 
Gienvilles.  These  blandishments  produced  a  great  effect. 
For  though  Pitt's  spirit  was  high  and  manly,  though  his 
eloquence  was  often  exerted  with  formidable  effect  against 
the  court,  and  though  his  theory  of  government  had  been 
learned  in  the  school  of  Locke  and  Sidney,  he  had  always 
regarded  the  person  of  the  sovereign  with  profound  ven- 
eration. As  soon  as  he  was  brought  face  to  face  with 
royalty,  his  imagination  and  sensibility  were  too  strong 
for  his  principles.  His  Whiggism  thawed  and  disap- 
peared ;  and  he  became,  for  the  time,  a  Tory  of  the  old 
Ormond  pattern.  Nor  was  he  by  any  means  unwilling 
to  assist  in  the  work  of  dissolving  all  political  connec- 
tions. His  own  weight  in  the  state  was  wholly  independ- 
ent of  such  connections.  He  was  tlioreforo  inclined  to 
look  on  them  with  dislike,  and  made  far  too  little  distinc- 
tion between  gangs  of  knaves  associated  for  the  mere 
purpose  of  rol»l)ing  the  public,  and  confederacies  of  hon- 
oralde  men  for  the  promotion  of  great  public  objects. 
Nor  had  he  the  sagacity  to  perceive  that  the  strenuous 
efforts  whifh  he  made  to  annihilate  all  parties  tended 
only  to  establish  the  asfcndcncy  of  one  party,  and  that 
the  basest  and  most  hateful  of  all. 

It  may  be  dnulitod  whether  he  would  liave  been  thus 
misled,  if  his  mind  had  l>cen  in  full  health  and  vigor. 
But  the  truth  is  that  he  had  for  some  time  been  in  an 
unnatural  state  of  excitement.  No  suspieion  of  this  sort 
had  yet  got  abroad.  His  elo(|uence  had  never  shone  with 
more  splendor  than  during  the  recent  debates.  But 
peoj)le  afterward  ejilled  tf)  niind  many  things  which 
ought    to    have    roused    their    ai)prehensi(»ns.      His    habits 


166  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

were  gradually  becoming'  more  and  more  eccentric.  A 
horror  of  all  loud  sounds,  such  as  is  said  to  have  been 
one  of  the  many  oddities  of  Wallenstein,  grew  upon  him. 
Though  the  most  ailectionate  of  fathers,  he  could  not  at 
this  time  bear  to  hear  the  voices  of  his  own  children,  and 
laid  out  great  sums  at  Hayes  in  buying  up  houses  con- 
tiguous to  his  own,  merely  that  he  might  have  no  neigh- 
bors to  disturb  him  with  their  noise.  He  then  sold  Hayes, 
and  took  possession  of  a  villa  at  Hampstead,  where  he 
again  began  to  purchase  houses  to  right  and  left.  In 
expense,  indeed,  he  vied,  during  this  part  of  his  life,  with 
the  wealthiest  of  the  conquerors  of  Bengal  and  Tanjore. 
At  Burton  Pynscnt,  he  ordered  a  great  extent  of  ground 
to  be  planted  with  cedars.  Cedars  enough  for  the  purpose 
were  not  to  be  found  in  Somersetshire.  They  were  there- 
fore collected  in  London,  and  sent  down  by  land  carriage. 
Relays  of  laborers  were  hired;  and  the  work  went  on  all 
night  by  torchlight.  No  man  could  be  more  abstemious 
than  Pitt;  yet  the  profusion  of  his  kitchen  was  a  wonder 
even  to  epicures.  Several  dinners  were  always  dressing; 
for  his  appetite  was  capricious  and  fanciful;  and  at  what- 
ever moment  he  felt  inclined  to  eat,  he  expected  a  meal 
to  be  instantly  on  the  table.  Other  circumstances  might 
be  mentioned,  such  as  separately  are  of  little  moment,  but 
such  as,  when  taken  together,  and  when  viewed  in  con- 
nection with  the  strange  events  which  followed,  justify 
us  in  believing  that  his  mind  was  already  in  a  morbid 
state. 

Soon  after  the  close  of  the  session  of  Parliament,  Lord 
Rockingham  received  his  dismissal.  He  retired,  accom- 
panied l)y  a  firm  body  of  friends,  whose  consistency  and 
uprightness  enmity  itself  was  forced  to  admit.  None  of 
them  had  asked  or  obtained  any  pension  or  any  sinecure, 
either  in  possession  or  in  reversion.  Such  disinterested- 
ness was  then  rare  among  politicians.  Their  chief,  though 
not  a  man  of  brilliant  talents,  had  won  for  himself  an 
honorable  fame,  which  he  kept  pure  to  the  last.  Ho  had, 
in  spite  of  difficulties  which  seemed  almost  insurmount- 
able, removed  great  abuses  and  averted  a  civil  war.  Six- 
teen years  later,  in  a  dark  and  terrible  day,  he  was  again 
called  upon  to  save  the  state,  brought  to  the  very  brink 
of  ruin  by  the  same  perfidy  and  obstinacy  which  had  em- 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  167 

barrassed,  and  at  length  overthrown,  his  first  administra- 
tion. 

Pitt  was  planting  in  Somersetshire  when  he  was  sum- 
moned to  court  by  a  letter  written  by  the  royal  hand. 
He  instantly  hastened  to  London.  The  irritability  of  his 
mind  and  body  were  increased  by  the  rapidity  with  which 
he  traveled;  and  when  he  reached  his  journey's  end  he 
was  suffering  from  fever.  Ill  as  he  was,  he  saw  the  King 
at  Richmond,  and  undertook  to  form  an  administration. 

Pitt  was  scarcely  in  the  state  in  which  a  man  should 
be  who  has  to  conduct  delicate  and  arduous  negotiations. 
In  his  letters  to  his  wife,  he  complained  that  the  con- 
ferences in  which  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  bear  a  part 
heated  his  blood  and  accelerated  his  pulse.  From  other 
sources  of  information  we  learn,  that  his  language,  even 
to  those  whose  cooperation  he  wished  to  engage,  was 
strangely  peremptory  and  despotic.  Some  of  his  notes 
written  iit  tbis  time  have  been  preserved,  and  are  in  a 
style  which  Lewis  the  Fourteenth  would  have  been  too 
well  bred  to  employ  in  addressing  any  French  gentleman. 

In  the  attempt  to  dissolve  all  parties,  Pitt  met  with 
some  difficulties.  Some  Whigs,  whom  the  court  would 
gladly  have  detached  from  Lord  Rockingham,  rejected  all 
offers.  Tbe  iJcdfords  were  perfectly  willing  to  break  with 
Grenville;  but  Pitt  would  not  come  up  to  their  terms. 
Temple,  whom  Pitt  at  first  meant  to  place  at  the  head  of 
the  treasury,  proved  intractable.  A  cobbiess  indeed  had, 
during  some  months,  been  fast  growing  between  the 
brothers-in-law,  so  loiitr  and  so  closely  allied  in  politics. 
Pitt  was  angry  witb  Temple  for  opposing  tbe  rejjcal  of 
the  Stamp  Act.  Temple  was  angry  with  Pitt  for  refusing 
to  accede  to  tbat  family  league  wliich  was  now  the 
favorite  plan  at  Stowe.  At  length  tbe  Earl  proposed  an 
equal  partition  of  i)ower  and  patronage,  and  offered,  on 
this  co!idition,  to  give  ujt  bis  brotber  fleorge.  Pitt 
thought  tbe  demand  exorbitant,  and  jKisitively  refused 
rompliance.  A  bitter  (|n;irrel  followed.  Encli  of  tlic  kins- 
men was  true  to  bis  eliaracfer.  Temple's  soul  fest<>red 
with  spite,  and  Pitt's  swi-Ued  into  eonteinpt.  Temple 
represented  Pitt  as  the  most  odif)UH  of  hypocrites  and 
traitors.  Pitt  held  a  different  and  jxrhaiis  a  more  i)ro- 
voking   ttjuc.     Temple  was   a  good   sort  of  man  enough, 


168  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

■whose  single  title  to  distinction  was,  that  he  had  a  large 
garden,  with  a  large  piece  of  water,  and  a  great  many 
pavilions  and  summer-houses.  To  his  fortunate  connec- 
tion with  a  great  orator  and  statesman  he  was  indebted 
for  an  importance  in  the  state  which  his  own  talents  could 
never  have  gained  for  him.  That  importance  had  turned 
his  head.  He  had  begun  to  fancy  that  he  could  form 
administrations  and  govern  empires.  It  was  piteous  to 
see  a  well-meaning  man  under  such  a  delusion. 

In  spite  of  all  these  difficulties,  a  ministry  was  made 
such  as  the  King  wished  to  see,  a  ministry  in  which  all 
his  Majesty's  friends  were  comfortably  accommodated, 
and  which,  with  the  exception  of  his  Majesty's  friends, 
contained  no  four  persons  who  had  ever  in  their  lives 
been  in  the  habit  of  acting  together.  Men  who  had  never 
concurred  in  a  single  vote  found  themselves  seated  at  the 
same  board.  The  office  of  paymaster  was  divided  between 
two  persons  who  had  never  exchanged  a  word.  Most  of 
the  chief  posts  were  filled  either  by  personal  adherents  of 
Pitt,  or  by  members  of  the  late  ministry,  who  had  been 
induced  to  remain  in  place  after  the  dismissal  of  Lord 
Rockingham.  To  the  former  class  belonged  Pratt,  now 
Lord  Camden,  who  accepted  the  great  seal,  and  Lord  Shel- 
burne,  who  was  made  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  Slate.  To 
the  latter  class  belonged  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  who  became 
First  Lord  of  the  Treasury,  and  Conway,  who  kept  his  old 
position  both  in  the  government  and  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  Charles  Townshend,  who  had  belonged  to 
every  party,  and  cared  for  none,  was  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer.  Pitt  himself  was  declared  prime  minister, 
hut  refused  to  take  any  laborious  office.  He  was  created 
Earl  of  Chatham,  and  the  privy  seal  was  delivered  to 
him. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  that  the  failure,  the 
complete  and  disgraceful  failure,  of  this  arrangement,  is 
not  to  be  ascribed  to  any  want  of  capacity  in  the  persons 
whom  we  have  named.  None  of  them  we^e  deficient  in 
abilities;  and  four  of  them,  Pitt  himself,  Shell)urne, 
Camden,  and  Townshend,  were  men  of  high  intellectual 
eminence.  The  fault  was  not  in  the  materials,  but  in  the 
principal  on  which  the  matorials  were  put  together.  Pitt 
had  mixed  up  these  conflicting  elements,  in  the  full  confi- 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  169 

dence  that  he  should  be  able  to  keep  them  all  in  perfect 
subordination  to  himself,  and  in  perfect  harmony  with 
each  other.  We  shall  soon  see  how  the  experiment  suc- 
ceeded. 

On  the  very  day  on  which  the  new  prime  minister 
kissed  hands,  three-fourths  of  that  popularity  which  he 
had  long  enjoyed  without  a  rival,  and  to  which  he  owed 
the  greater  part  of  his  authority,  departed  from  him.  A 
violent  outcry  was  raised,  not  against  that  part  of  his 
conduct  which  really  deserved  severe  condemnation,  but 
against  a  step  in  which  we  can  see  nothing  to  censure. 
His  acceptance  of  a  peerage  produced  a  general  burst  of 
indignation.  Yet  surely  no  peerage  had  ever  been  better 
earnetl ;  nor  was  there  ever  a  statesman  who  more  needed 
the  repose  of  the  Upper  House.  Pitt  was  now  growing  old. 
He  was  much  older  in  constitution  than  in  years.  It  was 
with  imminent  risk  to  his  life  that  he  had,  on  some  impor- 
tant occasions,  attended  his  duty  in  Parliament.  During 
the  session  of  1764,  he  had  not  been  able  to  take  part  in 
a  single  debate.  It  was  impossible  that  he  should  go 
through  the  nightly  labor  of  conducting  the  business  of 
the  govennnent  in  the  ITousc  of  Commons.  His  wish  to 
be  transferred,  under  such  circumstances,  to  a  less  busy 
and  a  less  turbulent  assembly,  was  natural  and  reasonable. 
The  nation,  however,  overlooked  all  these  considerations. 
Those  who  had  most  loved  and  honored  the  great  Com- 
moner were  loudest  in  invective  against  the  new  made 
Lord.  London  had  hitherto  been  true  to  him  throngli 
every  vicissitude.  When  the  citizens  learned  that  be  had 
V»een  sent  for  from  Somersetshire,  that  he  had  l)een 
closeted  with  the  K'iiig  at  TJicbinond,  and  that  lu;  was  to 
be  first  minister,  they  bad  In-en  in  transports  of  joy. 
Preparations  were  made  for  a  grand  entertainment  and 
for  a  general  illuniination.  The  lainjis  had  actually  been 
placed  round  the  Monument,  when  the  Ciazettc!  announced 
that  the  object  of  all  this  enthusiasm  was  an  Earl.  In- 
stantly the  feast  was  cf)unterinan(led.  TIk^  lamps  were 
taken  down.  Tlie  newspapers  raised  the  roar  of  obloijuy. 
Panifthlets.  made  up  of  calumny  aiul  scurrility,  filled  the 
shojis  of  all  tlie  booksellers;  and  of  those  pairij)blets.  the 
most  galling  were  written  under  the  direction  of  the 
malignant  Temple.     It  was  now  the  fashion  to  compare 


170  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

the  two  Williams,  William  Pultoney  and  William  Pitt. 
Both,  it  was  said,  had,  by  eloquence  and  simulated 
patriotism,  acquired  a  great  ascendancy  in  the  House  of 
Commons  and  in  the  country.  Eoth  had  been  intrusted 
with  the  office  of  reforming  the  government.  Both  had, 
when  at  the  height  of  power  and  popularity,  been 
seduced  by  the  si)londor  of  the  coronet.  Both  had  been 
made  earls,  and  both  had  at  once  become  objects  of  aver- 
sion and  scorn  to  the  nation  which  a  few  hours  before 
had  regarded  them  with  affection  and  veneration. 

The  clamor  against  Pitt  appears  to  have  had  a  serious 
effect  on  the  foreign  relations  of  the  country.  His  name 
had  till  now  acted  like  a  spell  at  Versailles  and  St.  Ilde- 
fonso.  English  travelers  on  the  Continent  had  r(>marked 
that  nothing  more  was  necessary  to  silence  a  whole  room 
full  of  boasting  FrcTichmen  than  to  drop  a  hint  of  the 
probability  that  Mr.  Pitt  would  return  to  power.  In  an 
instant  there  was  deep  silence;  all  shoulders  rose,  and  all 
faces  were  lengthened.  Now,  vnihapjiily,  every  foreign 
court,  in  learning  that  he  was  recalled  to  office,  learned 
also  that  he  no  longer  possessed  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men. Ceasing  to  be  loved  at  home,  he  ceased  to  be  feared 
abroad.  The  name  of  Pitt  had  been  a  charmed  name. 
Our  envoys  tried  in  vain  to  conjure  with  the  name  of 
Chntham. 

The  difficulties  which  beset  Chatham  were  daily  in- 
creased by  the  despotic  manner  in  which  he  treated  all 
around  him.  Lord  Rockingham  had,  at  the  time  of  the 
change  of  ministry,  acted  with  great  moderation,  had 
expressed  a  hope  that  the  new  government  would  act  on 
the  principles  of  the  late  government,  and  had  even 
interfered  to  prevent  many  of  his  friends  from  quitting 
office.  Thus  Saunders  and  Keppel,  two  naval  commanders 
of  great  eminence,  had  been  induced  to  remain  at  the 
Admiralty,  where  their  services  were  much  needed.  The 
Duke  of  Portland  was  still  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  Lord 
Besl'oroutrh  Postmaster.  But  within  a  quiu'ter  of  a  year, 
Lord  Chatham  had  so  deeply  affronted  these  men,  that 
they  all  retired  in  disgust.  In  truth,  his  tone,  submissive 
in  the  closet,  was  at  this  time  insupportably  tyrannical 
in  the  cabinet.  His  colleagues  were  merely  his  clerks  for 
naval,  financial,  and  diplomatic  business.     Conway,  meek 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  171 

as  he  was,  was  on  one  occasion  provoked  into  declaring 
that  such  hmguage  as  Lord  Chatham's  had  never  been 
heard  west  of  Constantinople,  and  was  with  difficulty 
prevented  by  Horace  Walpole  from  resigning,  and  rejoin- 
ing the  standard  of  Lord  Eockingham. 

The  breach  which  had  been  made  in  the  government 
by  the  defection  of  so  many  of  the  Rockinghams,  Chat- 
ham hoped  to  supply  by  the  help  of  the  Bedfords.  But 
with  the  Bedfords  he  could  not  deal  as  he  had  dealt  witli 
other  parties.  It  was  to  no  purpose  that  he  bade  high 
for  one  or  two  members  of  the  faction,  in  the  hope  of 
detaching  them  from  the  rest.  They  were  to  be  had: 
but  they  were  to  be  had  only  in  the  lot.  There  was  indeed 
for  a  moment  some  wavering  and  some  disputing  among 
them.  But  at  length  the  counsels  of  the  shrewd  and 
resolute  Rigby  prevailed.  They  determined  to  stand 
firmly  together,  and  phiinly  intimated  to  Chatham  that 
he  must  take  them  all,  or  that  he  should  get  none  of 
them.  The  event  proved  that  they  were  wiser  in  their 
generation  than  any  other  connection  in  the  state. 
In  a  few  months  they  were  able  to  dictate  their  own 
terms. 

The  most  important  public  measure  of  Lord  Chatham's 
administration  was  his  celebrated  interference  with  the 
corn  trade.  The  harvest  had  been  bad;  the  price  of  food 
was  high;  and  he  tlioiight  it  necessary  to  take  on  himself 
the  responsibility  of  laying  .in  embargo  on  the  ("xjjorta- 
tion  of  grain.  When  Piirliaiiient  met,  tliis  ])nieeeding 
was  attaeked  by  tli<-  ojiposition  as  unconstitutional,  and 
defended  V)y  the,.ministers  as  indispensably  necessary.  At 
last  an  act  was  [)assed  to  indeiiuiify  all  wbo  had  been 
concerned  in  the  embargo. 

The  first  words  uttered  by  Chatham,  in  llie  House  of 
Lords,  were  in  defense  of  his  conduct  on  tliis  occasion. 
He  spoke  with  a  calmness,  sobriety,  and  dignity,  well 
suited  to  the  audience  which  he  was  addressing.  A  sub- 
serpient  speech  wliieb  lie  made  on  the  sanu'  siibject  was 
less  successful.  He  bade  defiance  to  aristocrat ical  con- 
nections, with  a  superciliousness  to  which  the  Peers  were 
not  ncfustnined,  and  with  toiu's  and  ge-^tMres  better  suited 
to  a  large  anrl  stftrmy  assembly  than  to  the  body  f)f  which 
he  was  now  a  member.     A  short  altercation  followed,  and 


172  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

he  was  told  very  plainly  that  he  should  not  be  suffered 
to  browbeat  tbe  old  nobility  of  Enfjland. 

It  gradually  became  clearer  and  clearer  that  he  was  in 
a  distempered  state  of  mind.  His  attention  had  been 
drawn  to  the  territorial  acquisitions  of  tbe  East  India 
Company,  and  he  determined  to  bring  the  whole  of  that 
great  subject  before  Parliament.  He  would  not,  however, 
confer  on  the  subject  with  any  of  his  colleagues.  It  was 
in  vain  that  Conway,  who  was  charged  with  the  conduct 
of  business  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  Charles 
Townshend,  who  was  responsible  for  the  direction  of  the 
finances,  begged  for  some  glimpse  of  light  as  to  what  was 
in  contemplation.  Chatham's  answers  were  sullen  and 
mysterious.  He  must  decline  any  discussion  with  them; 
he  did  not  want  their  assistance;  he  had  fixed  on  a  person 
to  take  charge  of  his  measure  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
This  person  was  a  member  who  was  not  connected  with 
the  government,  and  who  neither  had,  nor  deserved  to 
have,  the  ear  of  the  House,  a  noisy,  purse-proud,  illiterate 
demagogue,  whose  Cockney  English  and  scraps  of  mispro- 
nounced Latin  were  the  jest  of  the  newspapers,  Alderman 
Eeckford.  It  may  W(>11  be  supposed  that  those  strange 
proceedings  produced  a  ferment  through  tbe  whole  politi- 
cal world.  The  city  was  in  commotion.  The  East  India 
Company  invoked  the  faith  of  charters.  Eurke  thundered 
against  the  ministers.  The  ministers  looked  at  each  other 
and  knew  not  what  to  say.  In  the  midst  of  the  confusion, 
Lord  Chatham  proclaimed  himself  gouty,  and  retired  to 
Bath.  It  was  announced,  after  some  time,  that  he  was 
better,  that  he  would  shortly  return,  that  he  would  soon 
put  everything  in  order.  A  day  was  fixed  for  his  arrival 
in  London.  But  when  he  reached  the  Castle  inn  at  Marl- 
borough, he  stopped,  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  and 
remained  there  some  weeks.  Everybody  who  traveled 
that  road  was  amazed  by  the  number  of  his  attendants. 
Footmen  and  grooms,  dressed  in  his  family  livery,  filled 
the  whole  inn,  though  one  of  tbe  largest  in  England,  and 
swarmed  in  the  streets  of  the  little  town.  The  truth  was 
that  the  invalid  had  insisted  that,  during  his  stay,  all 
the  waiters  and  stable-boys  of  the  Castle  should  wear  his 
livery. 

His  colleagues  were  in  despair.     The  Duke  of  Grafton 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  173 

proposed  to  go  down  to  Marlborough  in  order  to  consult 
the  oracle.  But  he  was  informed  that  Lord  Chatham 
must  decline  all  conversation  on  business.  In  the  mean- 
time, all  the  parties  which  were  out  of  office,  Bedfords, 
Grenvilles,  and  Rockinghams,  joined  to  oppose  the  dis- 
tracted government  on  the  vote  for  the  land  tax.  They 
were  reenforced  by  almost  all  the  county  members,  and 
had  a  considerable  majority.  This  was  the  first  time 
that  a  ministry  had  been  beaten  on  an  important  division 
in  the  House  of  Commons  since  the  fall  of  Sir  Robert 
Walpole.  The  administration,  thus  furiously  assailed 
from  without,  was  torn  by  internal  dissensions.  It  had 
been  formed  on  no  principle  whatever.  From  the  very 
first,  nothing  but  Chatham's  authority  had  prevented  the 
hostile  contingents  which  made  up  his  raiiks  from  going 
to  blows  with  each  other.  That  authority  was  now  with- 
drawn, and  everything  was  in  commotion.  Conway,  a 
lirave  soldier,  but  in  civil  affairs  the  most  timid  and 
irresolute  of  men,  afraid  of  disobliging  the  King,  afraid 
of  being  abused  in  the  newspapers,  afraid  of  being  thought 
factious  if  he  went  out,  afraid  of  being  thought  interested 
if  he  stayed  in,  afraid  of  everything,  and  afraid  of  being 
known  to  be  afraid  of  anything,  was  beaten  backward 
and  forward  like  a  shuttlecock  between  Horace  Walpole 
who  wished  to  make  him  prime  minister,  and  Lord  -Tohn 
Cavendish  who  wished  to  draw  him  into  opposition. 
Charles  Townshend,  a  man  of  splendid  talents,  of  lax 
principles,  and  of  boundless  vanity  and  presumption, 
would  submit  to  no  control.  The  full  extent  of  his  parts, 
of  his  ambition,  and  of  his  arrogance,  had  not  yet  been 
made  manifest;  for  he  had  always  quailed  before  the 
genius  and  the  lofty  character  of  Pitt.  But  now  that  Pitt 
bad  quitted  tlie  House  of  Commons,  and  seemed  to  have 
abdicated  the  part  of  chief  minister,  Townshend  broke 
loose  from  all  restraint. 

Wliile  tilings  were  in  this  state,  Chatham  at  length 
returned  to  London.  He  might  as  well  have  remained 
at  Marlliorou>,di.  He  would  see  nol)0(ly.  He  would  give 
no  opinion  oti  any  public  matter.  Tlie  Duke  of  (Jrafton 
begtre<l  piteously  for  an  interview,  for  an  hour,  for  lialf 
an  hour,  for  five  TuinuteM.  Tbe  answer  was,  that  it  was 
impossible.      Tlie    king    himself    repeatedly    condescended 


174  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

to  expostulate  and  implore.  "Your  duty,"  he  wrote,  "your 
own  honor,  require  you  to  nud^e  an  effort."  The  answers 
to  these  appeals  were  connnoidy  written  in  Lady  Chat- 
ham's hand,  from  her  lord's  dictation;  for  he  had  not 
energy  even  to  use  a  pen.  lie  flings  himself  at  the  King's 
feet.  He  is  penetrated  by  the  royal  goodness,  so  signally 
shown  to  the  most  unhappy  of  men.  Ho  implores  a  little 
more  indulgence.  He  cannot  as  yet  transact  business. 
He  cannot  see  his  colleagues.  Least  of  all  can  he  bear 
the  excitement  of  an  interview  with  majesty. 

Some  were  half  inclined  to  suspect  that  he  was,  to  use 
a  military  phrase,  malingering.  He  had  made,  they  said, 
a  great  blunder,  and  had  found  it  out.  His  immense 
popularity,  his  high  reputation  for  statesmanship,  were 
gone  for  ever.  Intoxicated  by  pride,  he  had  undertaken 
a  task  beyond  his  abilities.  He  now  saw  nothing  before 
him  but  distresses  and  humiliations;  and  he  had  there- 
fore simulated  illness,  in  order  to  escape  from  vexations 
which  he  had  not  fortitude  to  meet.  This  suspicion, 
though  it  derived  some  color  from  that  weakness  which 
was  the  most  striking  blemish  of  his  character,  was  cer- 
tainly unfounded.  His  mind,  before  he  became  first 
minister,  had  been,  as  we  have  said,  in  an  unsound  state; 
and  physical  and  moral  causes  now  concurred  to  make 
the  derangement  of  his  faculties  complete.  The  gout, 
which  had  been  the  torment  of  his  whole  life,  had  been 
suppressed  by  strong  remedies.  For  the  first  time  since 
he  was  a  boy  at  Oxfi)rd,  he  passed  several  months  without 
a  twinge.  But  his  hand  and  foot  had  been  relieved  at  the 
expense  of  his  nerves.  He  became  melancholy,  fanciful, 
irritable.  The  embarrassing  state  of  public  affairs,  the 
grave  responsibility  which  lay  on  him,  the  consciousness 
of  his  errors,  the  disputes  of  his  colleagues,  the  savage 
clamors  raised  by  his  detractors,  bewildered  his  enfeebled 
mind.  One  thing  alone,  he  said,  could  save  him.  He 
must  repurchase  Hayes.  The  unwilling  consent  of  the 
new  occupant  was  extorted  by  Lady  Chatham's  entreaties 
and  tears;  and  her  lord  was  somewhat  easier.  But  if 
business  were  mentioned  to  him,  he,  once  the  proudest 
and  boldest  of  mankind,  behaved  like  a  hysterical  g'irl, 
trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  175 

His  colleagues  for  a  time  continued  to  entertain  the 
expectation  that  his  health  would  soon  be  restored,  and 
that  he  would  emerge  from  his  retirement.  But  month 
followed  month,  and  still  he  remained  hidden  in  mys- 
terious seclusion,  and  sunk,  as  far  as  they  could  learn, 
in  the  deepest  dejection  of  spirits.  They  at  length  ceased 
to  hope  or  to  fear  anything  from  him ;  and,  though  he  was 
still  nominally  Prime  ^finister,  took  without  scruple  steps 
which  they  knew  to  be  diametrically  opposed  to  all  his 
opinions  and  feeling?,  allied  themselves  with  those  whom 
he  had  proscribed,  disgraced  those  whom  he  most  es- 
teemed, and  laid  taxes  on  the  colonies,  in  the  face  of  the 
fiffong   declarations   which  he  had   recently  made. 

When  he  had  passed  about  a  year  and  three-quarters  in 
gloomy  privacy,  the  King  received  a  few  lines  in  Lady 
Chatham's  hand.  They  contained  a  request,  dictated  by 
her  lord,  that  he  might  be  permitted  to  resign  the  Privy 
Seal.  After  some  civil  show  of  reluctance,  the  resigna- 
tion was  accepted.  Indeed  Chatham  was,  by  this  time, 
almost  as  much  forgotten  as  if  he  had  already  been  lying 
in  Westminster  Abbey. 

At  length  the  flouds  which  had  gathered  over  bis  mind 
broke  and  passed  away.  His  gout  returned,  and  freed 
him  from  a  more  cruel  malady.  His  nerves  were  newly 
braced.  His  spirits  became  buoyant.  He  woke  as  from 
a  sickly  dream.  It  was  a  strange  recovery.  Men  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  talking  of  him  as  of  one  dead,  and  when 
he  first  showed  himself  at  the  King's  levee,  started  as  if 
they  had  seen  a  gbost.  It  was  more  than  two  years  and 
a  half  since  he  had  appeared  in  i)ul)lic. 

TFe,  too,  had  fause  for  womlrr.  Tbo  world  wliidi  be 
now  entered  was  luit  the  worbl  wliith  be  bad  (|uiU»'ii. 
The  administration  wbi'  li  be  had  fonned  bad  never  been, 
at  any  ono  ni'niu'iit,  entirely  chaiigcvl.  V>u\  there  bad 
been  so  many  losses  and  so  iriany  ac'-essions,  tliat  be 
eonld  scarcely  rer-ognize  his  own  work,  (^liarles  'I'own- 
sbend  was  dead.  Lord  Sbelbnrne  bad  lieen  disniis«ed. 
Conway  hail  sunk  intr)  utter  insignifieanec.  Tbc  I)uk(^  of 
Crafton  had  falb'ti  into  the  hands  of  the  T^edfords.  Tbe 
Redford'<  bad  deserfed  Crenville.  bad  made  their  ])eaee 
with  tbe  King  and  tbe  i\ing's  friends,  and  liad  been 
admitted   to   office.      Lord    North    was    Chancellor   of   the 


176  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Exfliequer,  and  was  risinj?  fast  in  importance,  Corsica 
had  been  j^iven  up  to  France  without  a  struggle.  The 
disputes  with  the  American  colonies  had  been  revived. 
A  general  election  had  taken  place.  Wilkes  had  returned 
from  exile,  and,  outlaw  as  he  was,  had  been  chosen  knight 
of  the  shire  for  Middlesex.  The  multitude  was  on  his 
side.  The  court  was  obstinately  bent  on  ruining  him, 
and  was  prepared  to  shake  the  very  foundations  of  the 
constitution  for  the  sake  of  a  paltry  revenge.  The  House 
of  Commons,  assuming  to  itself  an  authority  which  of 
right  belongs  only  to  the  whole  legislature,  had  declared 
Wilkes  incapable  of  sitting  in  Parliament.  Nor  had  it 
been  thought  sufficient  to  keep  him  out.  Another  must 
be  brought  in.  Since  the  freeholders  of  Middlesex  had 
obstinately  refused  to  choose  a  member  acceptable  to  the 
Court,  the  House  had  chosen  a  member  for  them.  This 
was  not  the  only  instance,  perhaps  not  the  most  disgrace- 
ful instance,  of  the  inveterate  malignity  of  the  Court. 
Exasperated  by  the  steady  opposition  of  the  Rockingham 
party,  the  King's  friends  had  tried  to  rob  a  distinguished 
Whig  nobleman  of  his  private  estate,  and  had  persisted 
in  their  mean  wickedness  till  their  own  servile  majority 
had  revolted  from  mere  disgust  and  shame.  Discontent 
had  spread  throughout  the  nation,  and  was  kept  up  by 
stimulants  such  as  had  rarely  been  applied  to  the  public 
mind.  Junius  had  taken  the  fichl,  had  trampled  Sir 
William  Draper  in  the  dust,  had  well-nigh  broken  the 
heart  of  Blackstone,  and  had  so  mangled  the  reputation 
of  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  that  his  grace  had  become  sick 
of  office,  and  was  beginning  to  look  wistfully  towards  the 
shades  of  Euston.  Ever\^  principle  of  foreign,  domestic, 
and  colonial  policy  which  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  Chat- 
ham had,  during  the  eclipse  of  his  genius,  been  violated 
by  the  government  which  he  had  formed. 

The  remaining  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  vainly 
struggling  against  that  fatal  policy  which,  at  the  moment 
when  he  might  have  given  it  a  deathblow,  he  had  been 
induced  to  take  under  his  protection.  His  exertions  re- 
deemed his  own  fame,  but  they  effected  little  for  his 
country. 

He  found  two  parties  arrayed  against  the  government, 
the  party  of  his  own  brothers-in-law,  the  Grenvilles,  and 


THE  EAEL  OF  CHATHAM  177 

the  party  of  Lord  Rockingham.  On  the  question  of  the 
Middlesex  election  these  parties  were  agreed.  But  on 
many  other  important  questions  they  differed  widely;  and 
they  were,  in  truth,  not  less  hostile  to  each  other  than 
to  the  Court.  The  Grenvilles  had,  during  several  years, 
annoyed  the  Eockinghams  with  a  succession  of  acri- 
monious pamphlets.  It  was  long  before  the  Rockinghams 
could  be  induced  to  retaliate.  But  an  ill-natured  tract, 
written  under  Grenville's  direction,  and  entitled,  a  State 
of  the  ]*^ation,  was  too  much  for  their  patience.  Burke 
undertook  to  defend  and  avenge  his  friends,  and  executed 
the  task  with  admirable  skill  and  vigor.  On  every  point 
he  was  victorious,  and  nowhere  more  completely  victorious 
than  when  he  joined  issue  on  those  dry  and  minute  ques- 
tions of  statistical  and  financial  detail  in  which  the  main 
strength  of  Orenville  lay.  The  official  drudge,  even  on  his 
own  chosen  ground,  was  utterly  unable  to  maintain  the 
fight  against  the  great  orator  and  philosopher.  When 
Chatham  reappeared,  rireuville  was  still  writhing  with  the 
recent  shame  and  smart  of  this  well-merited  chastisement. 
Cordial  cooperation  between  the  two  sections  of  the  Oppo- 
sition was  impossible.  Nor  could  Chatham  easily  connect 
himself  with  either.  His  feelings,  in  spite  of  many 
affronts  given  and  received,  drew  him  toward  the  Gren- 
villes. For  ho  had  strong  domestic  affections;  and  his 
nature,  which,  though  haughty,  was  by  no  means  obdu- 
rate, had  been  softened  liy  affliction.  But  from  his 
kinsmen  he  was  separated  l)y  a  wide  difference  of  oj)inion 
on  the  question  of  colonial  taxation.  A  reconciliation, 
however,  took  place,  lie  visited  Stowe;  ho  shook  hands 
with  George  Grenville;  and  the  Whig  freeholders  of  Buck- 
inghamshire, at  their  iiublic  dinners,  drank  many  bumpers 
to  the  union  of  the  tliree  brothers. 

In  opinions,  Cliatbam  was  juucb  nearer  to  tlie  Rocking- 
hams than  to  his  own  relatives.  But  l)ct\veen  him  and 
tbe  Roekingbiims  there  was  a  gulf  not  easily  to  be  passed. 
He  bad  deeply  iiijure(l  tlu-in.  and  in  injuring  them,  had 
deejtly  injureri  his  country.  When  tbe.  balance  was  trem- 
1,1  ing  between  them  aTid  the  Court,  ho  had  thrown  the 
whole  weight  of  his  genius,  of  bis  renown,  of  bis  j)opii- 
larity.  into  tbe  scale  of  misgovernment.  It  must  be 
added,    tbat   many    eminent    members    of   the   party    still 


178  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

retained  a  bitter  recollection  of  the  asperity  and  disdain 
Avith  which  they  had  been  treated  by  him  at  the  time  when 
he  assumed  the  direction  of  aifairs.  It  is  clear  from 
Burke's  pam])hlcts  and  speeches,  and  still  more  clear 
from  his  private  letters,  and  from  the  lanj^uage  which  he 
held  in  conversation,  that  he  regarded  Chatham  with  a 
feeling'  not  far  removed  from  dislike.  Chatham  was  un- 
doubtedly conscious  of  his  error,  and  desirous  to  atone 
for  it.  But  his  overtures  of  friendship,  though  made 
with  earnestness,  and  even  with  unwonted  humility,  were 
at  first  received  by  Lord  Kockingham  with  cold  and 
austere  reserve.  Gradually  the  intercourse  of  the  two 
statesmen  became  courteous  and  even  amicable.  But  the 
past  was  never  wholly  forgotten. 

Chatham  did  not,  however,  stand  alone.  Round  him 
gathered  a  party,  small  in  number,  but  strong  in  great 
and  various  talents.  Lord  Camden,  Lord  Slielburne, 
Colonel  Barre,  and  Dunning,  afterwards  Lord  Ashburton, 
were  the  principal  members  of  this  connection. 

There  is  no  reason  to  believe  that,  from  this  time  till 
within  a  few  weeks  of  Chatham's  death,  his  intellect 
suffered  any  decay.  His  eloquence  was  almost  to  the  last 
heard  with  delight.  But  it  was  not  exactly  the  eloquence 
of  the  House  of  Lords.  That  lofty  and  passionate,  but 
somewhat  desultory  declamation,  in  which  he  excelled  all 
men,  and  which  was  set  off  by  looks,  tones,  and  gestures, 
worthy  of  Garrick  or  Talma,  was  out  of  place  in  a  small 
apartment  where  the  audience  often  consisted  of  three 
or  four  drowsy  prelates,  three  or  four  old  judges,  accus- 
tomed during  many  years  to  disregard  rhetoric,  and  to 
look  only  at  facts  and  arguments,  and  three  or  four  list- 
less and  supercilious  men  of  fashion,  whom  anything  like 
enthusiasm  moved  to  a  sneer.  In  the  House  of  Commons, 
a  flash  of  his  eye,  a  wave  of  his  arm,  had  sometimes  cowed 
Murray.  But,  in  the  House  of  Peers,  his  utmost  vehe- 
mence and  pathos  produced  less  effect  than  the  moderation, 
the  reasonableness,  the  luminous  order,  and  the  serene 
dignity,  which  characterized  the  speeches  of  Lord  Mans- 
field. 

On  the  question  of  the  Middlesex  election,  all  the  three 
divisions  of  the  Opposition  acted  in  concert.  No  orator 
in    either    House    defended    what    is    now    universally 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  179 

admitted  to  have  been  the  constitutional  cause  with  more 
ardor  or  eloquence  than  Chatham.  Before  this  subject 
had  ceased  to  occupy  the  public  mind,  George  Grenville 
died.  His  party  rapidly  melted  away;  and  in  a  short 
time  most  of  his  adherents  appeared  on  the  ministerial 
benches. 

Had  George  Grenville  lived  many  months  longer,  the 
friendly  ties  which,  after  years  of  estrangement  and  hos- 
tility, had  been  renewed  between  him  and  his  brother-in- 
law,  would,  in  all  probability,  have  been  a  second  time 
violently  dissolved.  For  now  the  quarrel  between  England 
^d  the  Xorth  American  colonies  took  a  gloomy  and  ter- 
rible aspect.  Oppression  provoked  resistance;  resistance 
was  made  the  pretext  for  fresh  oppression.  The  warnings 
of  all  the  greatest  statesmen  of  the  age  were  lost  on  an 
imperious  court  and  a  dehided  nation.  Soon  a  colonial 
senate  confronted  the  British  Parliament.  Then  the 
colonial  militia  crossed  baj^onets  with  the  British  regi- 
ments. At  length  the  commonwealth  was  torn  asunder. 
Two  millions  of  Englishmen,  who,  fifteen  years  before, 
had  been  as  loyal  to  their  i)rinco  and  as  proud  of  their 
country  as  the  people  of  Kent  or  Yorkshire,  separated 
themselves  by  a  solemn  act  from  the  Empire.  For  a  time 
it  seemed  that  the  insurgents  would  struggle  to  small 
purfjose  against  tbe  vast  financial  and  military  means  of 
the  mother  country.  But  disasters,  following  one  another 
in  rapid  sucfcssiou,  rapidly  dispelled  the  illusions  of 
national  vanity.  At  length  a  great  British  force,  ex- 
hausted, famished,  harassed  on  every  side  by  a  hostile 
peasantry,  was  compelled  to  deliver  up  its  arms.  Tbose 
governments  which  England  IkkI.  in  the  late  war,  so 
signally  humbled,  and  wliieh  had  during  many  years  been 
sullenly  brf)0(ling  over  tlic^  recollections  of  Quebec',  of 
Minden,  and  of  the  Moid,  imw  saw  with  exultation  that 
the  day  of  revenge  was  at  hand.  I'Vance  recognized  the 
independence  of  tlu;  Knited  States;  and  there  could  bo 
little  doubt  that  the  example  would  soon  be  followed  by 
Spain. 

Chatham  and  Tlockingham  had  conlially  concurred  in 
opposing  every  part  of  the  fatal  policy  whirh  Ii;ul  lnoiight 
the  state  into  this  daiurerous  situation.  But  their  paths 
Tiow   diverf/ed.      Lord    Flixkinghiim    thought,    and,   as    the 


ISO  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

event  proved,  thought  most  justly,  that  the  revolted 
colonies  wore  separated  from  the  Empire  forever,  and 
that  the  only  eflFect  of  prolonginf?  the  war  on  the  American 
continent  would  be  to  divide  resources  which  it  was 
desirable  to  concentrate.  If  the  hopeless  attempt  to  sub- 
jugate Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  were  abandoned,  war 
against  the  ITouse  of  Bourbon  might  possibly  be  avoided, 
or,  if  inevitable,  might  be  carried  on  with  success  and 
glory.  We  might  even  indemnify  ourselves  of  part  of 
what  we  had  lost,  at  the  expense  of  those  foreign  enemies 
who  had  liopcnl  to  profit  by  our  domestic  dissensions. 
Lord  Rockingham,  therefore,  and  those  who  acted  with 
him,  conceived  that  the  wisest  course  now  open  to  En- 
gland was  to  acknowledge  the  independence  of  the  United 
States,  and  to  turn  her  whole  force  against  her  European 
enemies. 

Chatham,  it  should  seem,  ought  to  have  taken  the  same 
side.  Before  France  had  taken  any  part  in  our  quarrel 
with  the  colonies,  he  had  repeatedly,  and  with  great 
energy  of  language,  declared  that  it  was  impossible  to 
conquer  America;  and  he  could  not  without  absurdity 
maintain  that  it  was  easier  to  conquer  France  and 
America  together  than  America  alone.  But  his  passions 
overpowered  his  judgment,  and  made  him  blind  to  his 
own  inconsistency.  The  very  circumstances  which  made 
the  separation  of  the  colonies  inevitable  made  it  to  him 
altogether  insupportable.  The  dismemberment  of  the 
Empire  seemed  to  hini  less  ruinous  and  humiliating,  when 
produced  by  domestic  dissensions,  than  when  produced 
by  foreign  interference.  His  blood  boiled  at  the  degrada- 
tion of  his  country.  Whatever  lowered  her  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  he  felt  as  a  personal  outrage  to  him- 
self. And  the  feeling  was  natural.  He  had  made  her 
so  great.  He  had  been  so  proud  of  her;  and  she  had  been 
so  proud  of  him.  He  remembered  how,  more  than  twenty 
years  before,  in  a  day  of  gloom  and  dismay,  when  her 
possessions  were  torn  from  her,  when  her  flag  was  dis- 
honored, she  had  called  on  him  to  save  her.  He  remem- 
bered the  sudden  and  glorious  change  which  his  energy 
had  wrought,  the  long  scries  of  triumi)hs,  the  days  of 
thanksgiving,  the  nights  of  illuminatif>n.  Fired  V)y  such 
recollections,    he    determined    to    separate    himself    from 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  181 

those  who  advised  that  the  independence  of  the  colonies 
should  be  acknowledged.  That  he  was  in  error  will 
scarcely,  we  think,  be  disputed  by  his  warmest  admirers. 
Indeed,  the  treaty,  by  which,  a  few  years  later,  the  repub- 
lic of  the  United  States  was  recognized,  was  the  work  of 
his  most  attached  adherents  and  of  his  favorite  son. 

The  Duke  of  Richmond  had  given  notice  of  an  address 
to  the  throne,  against  the  further  prosecution  of  hostilities 
with  America.  Chatham  had,  during  some  time,  absented 
himself  from  Parliament,  in  consequence  of  his  growing 
infirmities.  He  determined  to  appear  in  his  place  on  this 
occasion,  and  to  declare  tliat  his  opinions  were  decidedly 
at  variance  with  those  of  the  Rockingham  party.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  His  medical  attendants 
were  uneasy,  and  strongly  advised  him  to  calm  himself, 
and  to  remain  at  home.  But  he  was  not  to  be  controlled. 
His  son  William,  and  his  son-in-law  Lord  Mahon,  accom- 
panied him  to  Westminster.  He  rested  himself  in  the 
Chancellor's  room  till  the  debate  commenced,  and  then, 
leaning  on  his  two  young  relations,  limped  to  his  seat. 
The  slightest  particulars  of  that  day  were  remembered, 
and  have  been  carefully  recorded.  He  bowed,  it  was 
remarked,  with  great  courtliness  to  those  peers  who  rose 
to  make  way  for  him  and  his  supporters.  His  crutch  was 
in  his  hand.  He  wore,  as  was  his  fashion,  a  rich  velvet 
coat.  His  legs  were  swatlicd  in  flaniu'l.  His  wig  was  so 
large,  and  his  face  so  emaciated,  that  none  of  his  features 
could  be  discerned,  except  the  high  curve  of  his  nose,  and 
his  eyes,  wliirh  still  retained  a  gleam  of  tlie  old  fire. 

W'hen  the  Duke  of  Richmond  had  spoken,  Chatham 
rose.  For  some  time  his  voiee  was  inaudible.  At  length 
his  tones  beeaine  distiiiet  and  his  aetidu  animated.  Here 
and  there  his  hearers  caught  a  thought  or  an  expression 
whi<-h  reminded  them  r.f  William  Pitt.  V>\i\  it  was  clear 
that  he  was  not  himself.  lie  lost  the  thread  of  his  dis- 
course, hesitated,  repeated  the  same  words  several  times, 
and  was  so  confused  that,  in  speaking  of  the  Aet  of 
S(»ttlement,  he  eonld  not  recall  the  name  <if  the  Klectress 
Sophia.  Tlie  House  listened  in  solemn  silence,  and  with 
the  aspect  of  profound  resjx'ct  and  eonipassion.  '{'he  still- 
ness was  HO  deeji  tliat  the  dropjting  of  a  handkerchief 
would  have  been  heard.     The  Duke  of  liichmond  replied 


182  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

with  pcreat  tenderness  and  courtesy;  but  while  he  spoke, 
the  old  man  was  observed  to  be  restless  and  irritable. 
The  Duke  sat  down.  C'hatluun  stood  up  again,  pressed 
his  hand  on  his  breast,  and  sank  down  in  an  apoplectic 
fit.  Three  or  four  lords  who  sat  near  him  caught  him  in 
his  fall.  The  House  broke  up  in  confusion.  The  dying- 
man  was  carried  to  the  residence  of  one  of  the  officers 
of  Parliament,  and  was  so  far  restored  as  to  be  able  to 
bear  a  journey  to  Hayes.  At  Hayes,  after  lingering  a  few 
weeks,  he  e;:pired  in  his  seventieth  year.  His  bed  was 
watched  to  the  last,  with  anxious  tenderness,  by  his  wife 
and  children  ;  and  he  well  deserved  their  care.  Too  often 
haughty  and  wayward  to  others,  to  them  he  had  been 
almost  etfeminately  kind.  He  had  through  life  been 
dreaded  by  his  political  opponents,  and  regarded  with 
more  awe  than  love  even  by  his  political  associates.  Eut 
no  fear  seems  to  have  mingled  with  the  affection  which  his 
fondness,  constantly  overflowing  in  a  thousand  endearing 
forms,  had  inspired  in  the  little  circle  at  Hayes. 

Chatham,  at  the  time  of  his  disease,  had  not,  in  both 
Houses  of  Parliament,  ten  personal  adherents.  Half  the 
public  men  of  the  age  had  been  estranged  from  him  by 
his  errors,  and  the  other  half  by  the  exertions  which  he 
had  made  to  repair  his  errors.  His  last  speech  had  been 
an  attack  at  once  on  the  policy  pursued  by  the  govern- 
ment, and  on  the  policy  recommended  by  the  opposition. 
But  death  restored  him  to  his  old  place  in  the  affection  of 
his  country.  Who  could  hear  unmoved  of  the  fall  of  that 
which  had  been  so  great,  and  which  had  stood  so  long? 
The  circumstances,  too,  seemed  rather  to  belong  to  the 
tragic  stage  than  to  real  life.  A  great  statesman,  full  of 
years  and  honors,  led  forth  to  the  Senate  House  by  a  son 
of  rare  hopes,  and  stricken  down  in  full  council  while 
straining  his  feeble  voice  to  rouse  the  drooping  spirit  of 
his  country,  could  not  but  be  remembered  with  peculiar 
veneration  and  tenderness.  Detraction  was  overawed. 
The  voice  even  of  just  and  temperate  censure  was  mute. 
Nothing  was  remembered  but  the  lofty  genius,  the  un- 
sullied proVnty,  the  undisputed  services,  of  him  who  was 
no  more.  For  once  all  parties  were  agreed.  A  public 
funeral,  a  puVdic  monument,  were  eagerly  voted.  The 
debts  of  the  deceased  weie  paid.     A  provision  was  made 


THE  EARL  OF  CHATHAM  183 

for  his  family.  The  City  of  London  requested  that  the 
remains  of  the  great  man  whom  she  had  so  long  loved  and 
honored  might  rest  under  the  dome  of  her  magnificent 
cathedral.  But  the  petition  came  too  late.  Everything 
was  already  prepared  for  the  interment  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

Though  men  of  all  parties  had  concurred  in  decreeing 
posthumous  honors  to  Chatham,  his  corpse  was  attended 
to  the  grave  almost  exclusively  by  opponents  of  the  gov- 
ernment. The  banner  of  the  lordship  of  Chatham  was 
borne  by  Colonel  Barre,  attended  by  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond and  Lord  Rockingham.  Burke,  Savile,  and  Dun- 
ning upheld  the  pall.  Lord  Camden  was  conspicuous  in 
the  procession.  The  chief  mourner  was  young  William 
Pitt.  After  the  lapse  of  more  than  twenty-seven  years, 
in  a  season  as  dark  and  jjorilous,  his  own  shattered  frame 
and  broken  heart  were  laid,  with  the  same  pomp,  in  the 
samo  consecrated  mold. 

Chatham  sleeps  near  the  northern  door  of  the  Church, 
in  a  spot  which  has  ever  since  been  appropriated  to  states- 
men, as  the  other  end  of  the  same  transeiit  has  long  been 
to  poets.  Mansfield  rests  there,  and  the  second  William 
Pitt,  and  Fox,  and  Orattan,  and  Canning,  and  Wilber- 
force.  In  no  other  cemetery  do  so  many  great  citizens 
lie  within  so  narrow  a  space.  High  over  those  venerable 
gravf«!  towers  the  stately  monument  of  Chatham,  ami 
from  above,  liis  effigy,  graven  by  a  cunning  hand,  seems 
still,  with  eagle  face  and  outstretched  arm,  to  biil  En- 
gland be  of  good  eheer,  ami  to  hurl  defiance  at  her  foes. 
Tlie  generation  which  reared  that  iiieinorial  of  him  has 
disappeared.  The  time  has  eom(>  wlicn  the  rash  ami  iiidis- 
eriminate  jndgitietits  which  his  contemporaries  jjassed  on 
liis  character  may  be  calmly  revised  by  history.  And 
history,  while,  for  the  warning  of  vehement,  high,  and 
daring  natures,  she  notes  bis  many  errors,  will  yet  delil)- 
erately  pronounce,  that,  among  the  eiriim-nt  men  whose 
bones  lie  near  his,  .scarcely  one  has  left  a  mpre  stainless, 
and  none  a  more  splendid  name. 


LOKD  CLIVE  (January,  1840) 

The    Life   of   Robert    Lord    CUre;    collected   from  th-e   Family 

Papers,  communicated  by   the  Lnrl  of  I'oiris.  liy  Major- 

Generai-  Sir  John  Malcolm,  K.C.B.     .}  vols.  8vo.     Lon- 
don:   1836. 

We  have  always  thought  it  stranp:e  that,  while  the  history 
of  the  Spanish  empire  in  America  is  familiarly  known  to 
all  the  nations  of  Europe,  the  great  actions  of  our  coun- 
trymen in  the  East  should,  even  among  ourselves,  excite 
little  interest.  Every  schoolboy  knows  who  imprisoned 
Montezuma,  and  who  strangled  Atahualpa.  But  we  doubt 
whether  one  in  ten,  even  among  English  gentlemen  of 
highly  cultivated  minds,  can  tell  who  won  the  battle  of 
Buxar,  who  perpetrated  the  massacre  of  Patna,  whether 
Sujah  Dowlah  ruled  in  Oude  or  in  Travancore,  or  whether 
Holkar  was  a  Hindu  or  a  Mussulman.  Yet  the  victories 
of  Cortez  were  gained  over  savages  who  had  no  letters, 
who  were  ignorant  of  the  use  of  metals,  who  had  not 
broken  in  a  single  animal  to  labor,  who  wielded  no  better 
weapons  than  those  which  could  be  made  out  of  sticks, 
flints,  and  fish-bones,  who  regarded  a  horse-soldier  as  a 
monster,  half  man  and  half  beast,  who  took  a  harquebusier 
for  a  sorcerer,  able  to  scatter  the  thunder  and  lightning 
of  the  skies.  The  people  of  India,  when  we  subdued  them, 
were  ten  times  as  numerous  as  the  Americans  whom  the 
Spaniards  vancpiishcd,  and  were  at  the  same  time  quite  as 
highly  civilized  as  the  victorious  Spaniards.  They  had 
reared  cities  larger  and  fairer  than  Saragossa  or  Toledo, 
and  buildings  more  beautiful  and  costly  than  the  cathe- 
dral of  Seville.  They  could  show  bankers  richer  than  the 
richest  firms  of  Barcelona  or  C\idiz,  viceroys  whose  splen- 
dor far  surpassed  that  of  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  myriads 
of  cavalry  and  long  trains  of  artillery  which  would  have 
astonished  the  Tlreat  Captain.  It  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, that  every  Englisliinan  who  takes  any  interest  in 

184 


LOED  CLIVE  185 

any  part  of  history  would  be  curious  to  know  how  a  hand- 
ful of  his  countrymen,  separated  from  their  home  by  an 
immense  ocean,  subjugated,  in  the  course  of  a  few  years, 
one  of  the  greatest  empires  in  the  world.  Yet,  unless  we 
greatly  err,  this  subject  is,  to  most  readers,  not  only 
insipid  but  positively  distasteful. 

Perhaps  the  fault  lies  partly  with  the  historians.  Mr. 
Mill's  book,  though  it  has  undoubtedly  great  and  rare 
merit,  is  not  sufficiently  animated  and  picturesque  to 
attract  those  who  read  for  amusement.  Orme,  inferior  to 
no  English  historian  in  style  and  power  of  painting,  is 
minute  even  to  tediousness.  In  one  volume  he  allots,  on 
ati'  average,  a  closely  printed  (piarto  page  to  the  events  of 
every  forty-eight  hours.  The  consccpience  is,  that  his 
narrative,  though  one  of  the  most  authentic  and  one  of 
the  most  finely  written  in  our  language,  has  never  been 
very  popular,  and  is  now  scarcely  ever  read. 

We  fear  that  the  volumes  before  us  will  not  much 
attract  those  readers  whom  Orme  and  Mill  have  repelled. 
The  materials  i)laeed  at  the  disposal  of  Sir  John  Malcolm 
by  the  late  Lo.rd  Powis  were  indeed  of  great  value.  But 
we  cannot  say  that  they  have  been  very  skilfully  worked 
up.  It  would,  however,  be  unjust  to  critieize  with  severity 
a  work  which,  if  the  author  had  live<l  to  comijlete  and 
revise  it,  would  probably  have  been  imi)roved  by  con- 
densation and  by  a  better  arrangement.  We  are  more 
disposed  to  perform  tlie  pleasing  duty  of  expressing  our 
gratitude  to  the  iiolile  family  to  whieh  the  public  owes 
so  much  useful  and  curious  information. 

The  effeet  of  tl»e  book,  even  when  we  iii.ike  the  largest 
allowanee  for  tho.  j)arfiality  of  those  who  liave  furnished 
aufl  of  those  who  liave  digested  tho  mati-rials,  is,  on  the 
whole,  greatly  to  raise  tlie  character  of  Lord  f'live.  We 
are  far  indeed  from  sympathizing  with  Sir  Jebn  Malcolm, 
whoso  love  jiasses  tlu^  love  of  biographers,  and  wbo  can 
see  nothing  but  wisdom  and  justiee  in  the  actions  of  his 
idol.  But  we  are  at  least  erpially  far  from  eonenrring  in 
tln!  .'^everc!  judgment  of  Mr.  Mill,  who  seems  to  us  to  show 
less  diseriminiition  in  his  account  of  (Mivo  than  in  any 
other  part  of  his  valuable  work,  ('live,  like  most  men 
who  are  b(xrn  with  strtnig  passions  and  tried  l)y  strong 
temptations,   conunitted   great  faults.      But  every   person 


186  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

who  takes  a  fair  ami  I'liliKlilcmd  view  of  his  whole  career 
must  admit  that  our  island,  so  fertile  in  heroes  and  states- 
men, has  scarcely  ever  produced  a  man  more  truly  great 
either  in  arms  or  in  council. 

The  Clives  had  been  settled,  ever  since  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, on  an  estate  of  no  great  value,  near  Market-Drayton, 
in  Shropshire.  In  the  reign  of  George  the  First,  this 
moderate  but  ancient  inheritnnce  was  possessed  by  Mr. 
Richard  Clive,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  plain  man  of  no 
great  tact  o,r  capacity,  lie  had  been  bred  to  the  law,  and 
divided  his  time  between  professional  business  and  the 
avocations  of  a  sjnall  i)roprietor.  He  married  a  lady  from 
Manchester,  of  the  name  of  Gaskill,  and  became  the  father 
of  a  very  numerous  family.  His  eldest  son,  Robert,  the 
founder  of  the  British  empire  in  India,  was  born  at  the 
old  seat  of  his  ancestors  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  Septem- 
ber, 1725. 

Some  lineaments  of  the  character  of  the  man  were  early 
discerned  in  the  child.  There  remain  letters  written  by 
his  relations  when  he  was  in  his  seventh  year;  and  from 
these  letters  it  appears  that,  even  at  that  early  age,  his 
strong  will  and  his  fiery  passions,  sustained  by  a  consti- 
tutional intrepidity  which  sometimes  seemed  hardly  com- 
patible with  soundness  of  mind,  had  begun  to  cause  great 
tineasiness  to  his  family.  "Fighting,"  says  one  of  his 
uncles,  "to  which  he  is  out  of  measure  addicted,  gives  his 
temper  such  a  fierceness  and  imperiousness,  that  he  flies 
out  on  every  trifling  occasion."  The  old  people  of  the 
neighborhood  still  remember  to  have  heard  from  their 
parents  how  Bol)  Clive  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  lofty 
steeple  of  Market-Drayton,  and  with  what  terror  the  in- 
habitants saw  him  seated  on  a  stone  spout  near  the  sum- 
mit. They  also  relate  how  he  formed  all  the  idle  lads  of 
the  town  into  a  kind  of  predatory  army,  and  compelled 
the  shopkeepers  to  submit  to  a  tribute  of  apples  and 
half-pence,  in  consideration  nf  which  he  guaranteed  the 
security  of  their  windows.  He  was  sent  from  school  to 
school,  making  very  little  T>rogres8  in  his  learning,  and 
gaining  for  himself  everywhere  the  character  of  an  ex- 
ceedingly naughty  boy.  One  of  his  masters,  it  is  said, 
was  sagacious  enough  to  prophesy  that  the  idle  lad  would 
make  a  great  figure  in  the  world.    But  the  general  opinion 


LOED  CLIVE  187 

seems  to  have  been  that  poor  Robert  was  a  dunce,  if  not 
a  reprobate.  His  family  expected  nothing  good  from 
such  slender  parts  and  such  a  headstrong  temper.  It  is 
not  strange,  therefore,  that  they  ghidly  accepted  for  him, 
when  he  was  in  his  eighteenth  year,  a  writership  in  the 
service  of  the  East  India  Company,  and  shipped  him  off 
to  make  a  fortune  or  to  die  of  a  fever  at  Madras. 

Far  different  were  the  prospects  of  Clive  from  those  of 
the  youths  whom  the  East  India  College  now  annually 
sends  to  the  Presidencies  of  our  Asiatic  empire.  The 
Company  was  then  purely  a  trading  corporation.  Its 
territory  consisted  of  a  few  square  miles,  for  which  rent 
was  paid  to  the  native  governments.  Its  troops  were 
scarcely  numerous  enough  to  man  the  batteries  of  three 
or  four  ill-constructed  forts,  which  had  been  erected  for 
the  protection  of  the  warehouses.  The  natives,  who  com- 
posed a  considerable  part  of  these  little  garrisons,  had 
not  yet  been  trained  in  the  discipline  of  Europe,  and  were 
armed,  some  with  swords  and  shields,  some  with  bows  and 
arrows.  The  business  of  the  scrA-aut  of  the  Company  was 
not,  as  now,  to  conduct  the  judicial,  financial,  and  diplo- 
matic business  of  a  great  country,  but  to  take  stock,  to 
make  advances  to  weavers,  to  ship  cargoes,  and  above  all 
to  keep  an  eye  on  private  traders  who  dared  to  infringe 
the  monopoly.  The  younger  clerks  were  so  miserably 
paid  tliat  they  could  searcely  subsist  without  incurring 
debt;  the  elder  enriched  themselves  by  trading  on  their 
own  account:  and  those  who  lived  to  rise  to  the  top  of 
the  service  often  accumulated  considerable  fortunes. 

Madras,  to  which  Clive  had  been  appointed,  was,  at  this 
time,  perhaps,  the  first  in  importance  of  the  Company's 
settlements.  In  the  prei'e<b'ng  century.  Fort  St.  Cieorge 
had  arisen  on  a  barren  sj)ot  beaten  liy  a  raging  surf;  and 
in  the  neighltorhood  a  town,  inbabited  by  many  thousands 
of  natives,  h.id  si)rung  uj),  as  towns  sjiring  uj)  in  the  Fast, 
with  the  rajiidity  of  the  jtrofihet's  gourd.  Tbere  were 
already  in  the  suburbs  many  white  villas,  each  surrounded 
by  its  garden,  whither  the  wealthy  agents  of  tbe  Company 
retired,  after  tbe  labors  of  tbe  desk  and  tbe  warehouse, 
to  enjoy  the  cool  breeze  which  springs  up  at  sunset  from 
the  Bay  of  Bengal.  Tbe  habits  of  tbese  mercantile  gran- 
dees  app<;)r   tn   Ikivc   been   more  profu.se,   luxurious,   and 


ISS  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ostentatious,  than  those  of  the  high  judicial  and  political 
functionaries  who  have  succeeded  them.  But  comfort  was 
far  less  understood.  Many  devices  which  now  mitigate 
the  heat  of  the  climate,  preserve  health,  and  prolong  life, 
were  unknown.  There  was  far  less  intercourse  with 
Europe  than  at  present.  The  voyage  by  the  Cape,  which 
in  our  time  has  often  been  performed  within  three  months, 
was  then  very  seldom  accomplished  in  six,  and  was  some- 
times protracted  to  more  than  a  year.  Consequently,  the 
Anglo-Indian  was  then  much  more  estranged  from  his 
country,  much  more  addicted  to  Oriental  usages,  and 
much  less  fitted  to  mix  in  society  after  his  return  to 
Europe,  than  the  Anglo-Indian  of  the  present  day. 

Within  the  fort  and  its  precincts,  the  English  governors 
exercised,  by  permission  of  the  native  rulers,  an  extensive 
authority,  such  as  every  great  Indian  landowner  exercised 
within  his  own  domain.  But  they  had  never  dreamed 
of  claiming  independent  power.  The  surrounding  coun- 
try was  governed  by  the  Nabob  of  the  Carnatic,  a  deputy 
of  the  Viceroy  of  Deccan,  commonly  called  the  Nizam, 
who  was  himself  only  a  deputy  of  the  mighty  prince  des- 
ignated by  our  ancestors  as  the  Great  Mogul.  Those 
names,  once  so  august  and  formidable,  still  remain. 
There  is  still  a  Nabob  of  the  Carnatic,  who  lives  on  a 
pension  allowed  to  him  by  the  English  out  of  the  reve- 
nues of  the  province  which  his  ancestors  ruled.  There  is 
still  a  Nizam,  whose  capital  is  overawed  by  a  British  can- 
tonment, and  to  whom  a  British  resident  gives,  under 
the  name  of  advice,  commands  which  are  not  to  be  dis- 
puted. There  is  still  a  Mogul,  who  is  permitted  to  play 
at  holding  courts  and  receiving  petitions,  but  who  has 
less  power  to  help  or  hurt  than  the  youngest  civil  servant 
of  the  Company. 

dive's  voyage  was  unusually  tedious  even  for  that  age. 
The  ship  remained  some  months  at  the  Brazils,  where 
the  young  adventurer  picked  up  some  knowledge  of 
Portuguese  and  spent  all  his  pocket-money.  He  did  not 
arrive  in  India  till  more  than  a  year  after  he  had  left 
England.  His  situation  at  Madras  was  most  painful. 
His  funds  were  exhausted.  His  pay  was  small.  He  had 
contracted  debts.  He  was  wretchedly  lodged,  no  small 
calamity  in  a  climate  which  can  be  made  tolerable  to  an 


LORD  CLIYE  189 

European  only  by  spacious  and  well-placed  apartments. 
He  had  been  furnished  with  letters  of  recommendation" 
to  a  gentleman  who  might  have  assisted  him ;  but  when  he 
landed  at  Fort  St.  George  he  found  that  this  gentleman 
had  sailed  for  England.  The  lad's  shy  and  haughty  dis- 
position withheld  him  from  introducing  himself  to 
strangers.  He  was  several  months  in  India  before  he  be- 
came acquainted  with  a  single  family.  The  climate 
affected  his  health  and  spirits.  His  duties  were  of  a  kind 
ill  suited  to  his  ardent  and  daring  character.  He  pined' 
for  his  home,  and  in  his  letters  to  his  relations  expressed 
hie  feelings  in  language  softer  and  more  pensive  than 
we  should  have  expected  either  from  the  waywardness 
of  his  boyhood,  or  from  the  inflexible  sternness  of  his  latef 
years.  'T  have  not  enjoyed,"  says  he,  "one  happy  day 
since  I  left  my  native  country";  and  again,  "1  must  con- 
fess, at  intervals,  when  I  think  of  my  dear  native  Eng- 
land, it  affects  me  in  a  very  particular  manner.  ...  If 
I  should  be  so  far  blest  as  to  revisit  again  my  own  coun- 
try, but  more  especially  ]\r;inchoste.r,  the  center  of  all  my 
wishes,  all  that  I  could  hoi)e  or  desire  for  would  be  pre- 
sented before  me  in  one  view." 

One  solace  he  found  of  the  most  respectable  kind.  The 
Governor  possessed  a  good  lilirary,  and  permitted  Clive 
to  have  access  to  it.  The  young  man  devoted  much  of  his 
leisure  to  reading,  and  acquircfl  at  this  time  almost  all 
the  knowledge  of  books  tliat  he  ovo.r  possessed.  As  a 
boy  he  had  been  too  idle,  as  a  man  he  soon  became  too 
busy,  for  literary  pursuits. 

But  neither  climate  nor  poverty,  neither  study  nor  the 
sorrows  of  a  homesic-k  exile,  could  tame  the  desperate 
audacity  of  his  si)irit.  He  behaved  to  his  official  superiors 
as  he  had  behaved  to  his  sclioolmasters,  and  was  sev(>.ral 
times  in  danger  of  losing  his  situation.  Twice,  while 
residing  in  the  Writers'  Buildings,  he  altenij)ted  to 
destroy  himself;  and  t\vie«>  tlie  pistol  which  h(!  snaf)ped 
at  his  own  hciid  failed  to  go  off.  This  eircuinstnnce,  it  is 
said,  affected  him  as  a  similar  escape  nfTected  Wallen- 
fltein.  After  satisfying  himself  that  tlie  pistol  was  rciilly 
well  loiid<'(l,  he  bnrst  forth  intr)  an  exclamation  that  surely 
he  was  reserved  for  something  great. 

About  tbi''  time  an   event   wliicb   ut  first  seemei]   likely 


190  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

to  destroy  all  his  hopes  in  life  suddenly  opened  before 
him  a  new  path  to  eminence.  Europe  had  been,  during 
some  years,  distracted  by  the  War  of  the  Austrian  Succes- 
sion. George  the  Second  was  the  steady  ally  of  Maria 
Theresa.  Tlie  house  of  Bourbon  took  the  opposite  side. 
Though  England  was  even  then  the  first  of  maritime 
powers,  she  was  not,  as  she  has  since  become,  more  than 
a  match  on  the  sea  for  all  the  nations  of  tlie  world  to- 
gether; and  she  found  it  difficult  to  maintain  a  contest 
against  the  united  navies  of  France  and  Spain.  In  the 
eastern  seas  France  obtained  the  ascendency.  Labourdon- 
nais,  governor  of  Mauritius,  a  man  of  eminent  talents 
and  virtues,  conducted  an  expedition  to  the  continent  of 
India  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  British  fleet, 
landed,  assembled  an  army,  appeared  before  Madras,  and 
compelled  the  town  and  fort  to  capitulate.  The  keys  were 
delivered  up;  the  French  colors  were  displayed  on  Fort 
St.  George;  and  the  contents  of  the  Company's  ware- 
houses were  seized  as  prize  of  war  by  the  conquerors.  It 
was  stipulated  by  the  capitulation  that  the  English  in- 
habitants should  be  prisoners  of  war  on  parole,  and  that 
the  town  should  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  French  till  it 
should  be  ransomed.  Labourdonnais  pledged  his  honor 
that  only  a  moderate  ransom  should  be  required. 

But  the  success  of  Labourdonnais  had  awakened  the 
jealousy  of  his  countryman,  Dupleix,  governor  of  Pondi- 
cherry.  Dupleix,  moreover,  had  already  begun  to  revolve 
gigantic  schemes,  with  which  the  restoration  of  Madras 
to  the  English  was  by  no  means  compatible.  He  declared 
that  Labourdonnais  had  gone  beyond  his  powers;  that 
conquests  made  by  the  French  arms  on  the  continent  of 
India  were  at  the  disposal  of  the  governor  of  Pondicherry 
alone;  and  that  Madras  should  bo  razed  to  the  ground. 
Labourdonnais  was  compelled  to  yield.  The  anger  which 
the  breach  of  the  capitulation  excited  among  the  English 
was  increased  by  the  ungenerous  manner  in  which  Du- 
pleix treated  the  principal  servants  of  the  Company.  The 
Governor  and  several  of  the  first  gentlemen  of  Fort  St. 
George  were  carried  under  a  guard  to  Pondicherry,  and 
conducted  through  the  town  in  a  triumphal  procession 
under  the  eyes  of  fifty  thousand  spectators.  It  was  with 
reason  thought  that  this  gross  violation  of  public  faith 


LORD  CLIVE  191 

absolved  the  inhabitants  of  Madras  from  the  engagements 
into  which  they  had  entered  with  Labourdonnais.  Clive 
fled  from  the  town  by  night  in  the  disguise  of  a  ^Mussul- 
man,  and  took  refuge  at  Fort  St.  David,  one  of  the  small 
English  settlements  subordinate  to  Madras. 

The  circumstances  in  which  he  was  now  placed  natu- 
rally led  him  to  adopt  a  profession  better  suited  to  his 
restless  and  intrepid  spirit  than  the  business  of  examining 
packages  and  casting  accounts.  He  solicited  and  obtained 
an  ensign's  commission  in  the  service  of  the  Company, 
and  at  twenty-one  entered  on  his  military  career.  His 
personal  courage,  of  which  he  had,  while  still  a  writer, 
given  signal  proof  by  a  desperate  duel  with  a  military 
bully  who  was  the  terror  of  Fort  St.  David,  speedily  made 
him  conspicuous  even  among  hundreds  of  brave  men.  He 
soon  began  to  show  in  his  new  calling  other  qualities 
which  had  not  before  been  discerned  in  him,  judgment, 
sagacity,  deference  to  legitimate  authority.  He  distin- 
guished himself  highly  in  several  operations  against  the 
French,  and  was  particularly  noticed  by  Major  Lawrence, 
who  was  then  considered  as  the  ablest  British  officer  in 
India. 

Clive  had  been  only  a  few  months  in  the  army  when 
intelligence  arrived  that  peace  had  been  concluded  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  Franco.  Duplcix  was  in  conse- 
quence compelled  to  restore  ^ladras  to  the  English  Com- 
pany; and  the  young  ensign  was  at  liberty  to  resume  his 
former  business.  He  did  indeed  return  for  a  short  time 
to  his  desk.  He  again  quitted  it  in  order  to  assist  Major 
Lawrence  in  some  petty  hostilities  with  the  natives,  and 
then  again  returned  to  it.  Wbile  he  was  tluis  wavering 
between  a  military  and  a  eoniniereial  lile.  events  tixjk 
place  which  decided  his  choice.  The  politics  of  India 
assunii'd  a  new  aspei-t.  There  was  j)eaee  between  the  Kng- 
lish  and  Freiieh  Crf)wns;  but  there  arose  Ix'twcen  the 
English  an<l  French  Companies  trading  to  the  East  a  war 
most  eventful  and  important,  a  war  in  whieh  the  prize 
was  nothing  less  than  tlie  magnifieent  iidieritance.  of  the 
house  of  Tamerlane. 

The  errqtire  whieh  Baher  and  his  Moguls  reared  in  the 
sixtf'eiith  eentury  was  long  one  (if  the  most  extensive  ami 
splendid   in  the  world.     In  no  European  kingdom  was  so 


192  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

large  a  population  subject  to  a  single  prince,  or  so  large 
a  revenue  poured  into  the  treasury.  The  beauty  and  mag- 
nificence of  the  buildings  erected  by  the  sovereigns  of 
Hindustan,  amazed  even  travelers  who  had  seen  St. 
Peter's.  The  innumerable  .retinues  and  gorgeous  decora- 
tions which  surrounded  the  throne  of  Delhi  dazzled  even 
eyes  which  were  accustomed  to  the  pomp  of  Versailles. 
Some  of  the  great  viceroys  who  held  their  posts  by  virtue 
of  commissions  from  the  Mogul  ruled  as  many  subjects  as 
the  King  of  France  or  the  Emperor  of  Germany.  Even 
the  deputies  of  these  deputies  might  well  rank,  as  to 
extent  of  territory  and  amount  of  revenue,  with  the  Grand 
Duke  of  Tuscany,  or  the  Elector  of  Saxony. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  this  great  empire,  power- 
ful and  prosperous  as  it  appears  on  a  superficial  view, 
was  yet,  even  in  its  best  days,  far  worse  governed  than 
the  worst  governed  parts  of  Europe  now  are.  The  admin- 
istration was  tainted  with  all  the  vices  of  Oriental 
despotism  and  with  all  the  vices  inseparable  from  the 
domination  of  race  over  race.  The  conflicting  pretensions 
of  the  princes  of  the  royal  house  i)roduced  a  long  series 
of  crimes  and  public  disasters.  Ambitious  lieutenants  of 
the  sovereign  sometimes  aspired  to  independence.  Fierce 
tribes  of  Ilindus,  impatient  of  a  foreign  yoke,  frequently 
withheld  tribute,  repelled  the  armies  of  the  government 
from  the  mountain  fastnesses,  and  poured  down  in  arms 
on  the  cultivated  plains.  In  spite,  however,  of  much  con- 
stant maladministration,  in  spite  of  occasional  convul- 
sions which  shook  the  whole  frame  of  society,  this  great 
monarchy,  on  the  whole,  retained,  during  some  genera- 
tions, an  outward  appearance  of  unity,  majesty,  and 
energy.  But  throughout  the  long  reign  of  Aurungzebe, 
the  state,  nothwithstanding  all  that  the  vigor  ;uid  policy 
of  the  prince  could  etfect,  was  hastening  to  dissolution. 
After  his  death,  which  took  place  in  the  year  1707,  the 
ruin  was  fearfully  rapid.  Violent  shocks  from  without 
cooperated  with  an  incurable  decay  which  was  fast  pro- 
ceeding within;  and  in  a  few  years  the  empire  had  under- 
gone utter  decomposition. 

The  history  of  the  successors  of  Theodosius  bears  no 
small  analogy  to  that  of  the  successors  of  Aurungzebe. 
But  perhaps  the  fall  of  the  Carlovingians  furnishes  the 


LOKD  CLIVE  193 

nearest  parallel  to  the  fall  of  the  Mo^ls.  Charlemagne 
was  scarcely  interred  when  the  imbecility  and  the  disputes 
of  his  descendants  began  to  bring  contempt  on  themselves 
and  destruction  on  their  subjects.  The  wide  dominion  of 
the  Franks  was  severed  into  a  thousand  pieces.  Nothing 
more  than  a  nominal  dignity  was  left  to  the  abject  heirs 
of  an  illustrious  name,  Charles  the  Bald,  and  Charles  the 
Fat,  and  Charles  the  Simple.  Fierce  invaders,  differing 
from  each  other  in  race,  language,  and  religion,  flocked, 
as  if  by  concert,  from  the  farthest  corners  of  the  earth, 
to  plunder  provinces  which  the  government  could  no 
longer  defend.  The  pirates  of  the  Northern  Sea  extended 
their  ravages  from  the  Elbe  to  the  Pyrenees,  and  at  length 
fixed  their  seat  in  the  rich  valley  of  the  Seine.  The  Hun- 
garian, in  whom  the  trembling  monks  fancied  that  they 
recognized  the  Gog  or  Magog  of  prophecy,  carried  back 
the  plunder  of  the  cities  of  Lombardy  to  the  depths  of  the 
Pannonian  forests.  The  Saracen  ruled  in  Sicily,  deso- 
lated the  fertile  plains  of  Campania,  and  spread  terror 
even  to  the  walls  of  Rome.  In  the  midst  of  these  suffer- 
ings, a  great  internal  change  passed  upon  the  empire.  The 
corruption  of  death  began  to  ferment  into  new  forms  of 
life.  While  the  great  body,  as  a  whole,  was  torpid  and 
passive,  every  separate  member  began  to  feel  with  a  sense, 
and  to  move  with  an  energy  all  its  own.  Just  here,  in  the 
most  barren  and  dreary  tract  of  European  history,  all 
feudal  privileges,  all  modern  nobility,  take  their  source. 
It  is  to  this  point  that  we  trace  the  power  of  thos(>  princes, 
who,  nominally  vassals,  but  really  independent,  long  gov- 
erned, with  the  titles  of  dukes,  marquesses  and  counts, 
almost  every  part  of  the  dominions  which  had  obeyed 
Charlemagne. 

Such  or  nearly  such  was  the  change  which  passed  on 
the  Mogul  empire  during  the  party  years  wbicli  followed 
the  death  of  Aurungzebe.  A  sueeession  of  nominal  sov- 
ereigns, sunk  in  indolence  and  debnuehery,  sauntered 
away  life  in  seelnded  palaees,  chewing  bliaug,  fondling 
concubines,  and  listening  to  buffoons.  A  succession  of 
ferocious  invaders  descended  through  the  western  passes, 
to  prey  on  the  defeneeless  we;iltli  of  Hindustan.  A 
Persian  conqueror  crossed  the  Indus,  miircbed  through 
the  gates  of  Delhi,  and  bore  away  in  triumph  those  treas- 


194  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ures  of  which  the  magnificence  had  astounded  Roe  and 
Bernier,  the  Peacock  Throne,  on  which  the  richest  jewela 
of  Golconda  had  been  disposed  by  the  most  skilful  hands 
of  Europe,  and  the  inestimable  Mountain  of  Light,  which, 
after  many  stronge  vicissitudes,  lately  shone  in  the  brace- 
let of  Runjeet  Sinp:,  and  is  now  destined  to  adorn  the 
hideous  idol  of  Orissa.  The  Afghan  soon  followed  to  com- 
plete the  work  of  devastation  which  the  Persian  had  be- 
gun. The  warlike  tribes  of  Rajpootana  threw  oflF  the 
Mussulman  yoke.  A  band  of  mercenary  soldiers  occupied 
Rohilcund.  The  Sikhs  ruled  on  the  Indus.  The  Jauts 
spread  dismay  along  the  Jumna.  The  highlands  which 
border  on  the  western  seacoast  of  India  poured  forth  a 
yet  more  formidable  race,  a  race  which  was  long  the  terror 
of  every  native  power,  and  which,  after  many  desperate 
and  doubtful  struggles,  yielded  only  to  the  fortune  and 
genius  of  England.  It  was  under  the  reign  of  Aurungzebe 
that  this  wild  clan  of  plunderers  first  descended  from  their 
mountains;  and  soon  after  his  death,  every  corner  of  his 
wide  empire  learned  to  tremble  at  the  mighty  name  of  the 
Mahrattas.  Many  fertile  vice-royalties  were  entirely  sub- 
dued by  them.  Their  dominions  stretched  across  the 
peninsula  from  sea  to  sea.  Mahratta  captains  reigned  at 
Poonah,  at  Gualior,  in  Guzerat,  in  Berar,  and  in  Tanjore. 
Nor  did  they,  though  they  had  become  great  sovereigns, 
therefore  cease  to  be  freebooters.  They  still  retained  the 
predatory  habits  of  their  forefathers.  Every  region  which 
was  not  subject  to  their  rule  was  wasted  by  their  incur- 
sions. Wherever  their  kettle-drums  were  heard,  the  peas- 
ant threw  his  bag  of  rice  on  his  shoulder,  hid  his  small 
savings  in  his  girdlo,  and  fled  with  his  wife  and  children  to 
the  mountains  or  the  jungles,  to  the  milder  neighborhood 
of  the  hyena  and  the  tiger.  Many  provinces  redeemed 
their  harvests  by  the  payment  of  an  annual  ransom.  Even 
the  wretched  phantom  who  still  bore  the  imperial  title 
stooped  to  pay  this  ignominious  blackmail.  The  camp-fires 
of  one  rapacious  leader  were  seen  from  the  walls  of  the 
palace  of  Delhi.  Another,  at  the  head  of  his  innumerable 
cavalry,  descended  year  after  year  on  the  ricefields  of 
Bengal.  Even  the  European  factors  trembled  for  their 
magazines.  Less  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  it  was  thought 
necessary   to    fortify   Calcutta   against   the   horsemen   of 


LOED  CLIVE  195 

Berar;  and  the  name  of  the  Mahratta  ditch  still  preserves 
the  memory  of  the  danger. 

Wherever  the  viceroys  of  the  Mogul  retained  authority 
they  became  sovereigns.  They  might  still  acknowledge 
in  words  the  superiority  of  the  house  of  Tamerlane;  as  a 
Count  of  Flandsrs  or  a  Duke  of  Burgundy  might  have 
acknowledged  the  superiority  of  the  most  helpless  driveler 
among  the  later  Carlovingians.  They  might  occasionally 
send  to  their  titular  sovereigns  a  complimentary  present, 
or  solicit  from  him  a  title  of  honor.  In  truth,  however, 
they  were  no  longer  lieutenants  removable  at  pleasure,  but 
independent  hereditary  princes.  In  this  way  originated 
those  great  Mussulman  houses  which  formerly  ruled 
Bengal  and  the  Carnatic,  and  those  which  still,  though  in 
a  state  of  vassalage,  exercise  some  of  the  powers  of  royalty 
at  Lucknow  and  Hyderabad. 

In  what  was  this  confusion  to  end  ?  Was  the  strife  to 
continue  during  centuries?  Was  it  to  terminate  in  the 
rise  of  another  great  monarchy?  Was  the  Mussulman  or 
the  Mahratta  to  bo  the  Lord  of  India?  Was  another 
Babar  to  descend  from  the  mountains,  and  to  lead  the 
hardy  tribes  of  Kabul  and  Khorasan  against  a  wealthier 
and  less  warlike  race?  None  of  these  events  seemed  im- 
probable. But  scarcely  any  man,  however  sagacious, 
would  have  thought  it  possible  that  a  trading  company, 
separated  from  India  by  fifteen  thousand  miles  of  sea,  and 
possessing  in  India  only  a  few  acres  for  purposes  of  com- 
merce, would  in  less  than  a  hundred  years,  spread  its 
empire  from  Cape  Comorin  to  the  eternal  snow  of  the 
Himalayas;  would  compel  Malirntta  and  Mohammedan  to 
forget  their  mutual  fouds  in  common  subjection;  would 
tame  down  evrn  those  wild  races  which  had  resisted  the 
most  powerful  of  tbn  Mogtils;  and,  having  united  undnr 
its  laws  a  hundred  millions  of  subjects,  would  carry  its 
victorious  arms  far  to  the  east  of  the  Burrampooter,  and 
far  to  the  west  of  the  Hydaspes,  dictate  terms  of  peace  at 
the  gates  of  Ava,  and  seat  its  vassal  on  the  throne  of 
Kandahar. 

The  man  who  first  saw  that  it  was  possible  to  found 
an  European  empire  on  the  ruins  of  the  Mogul  monarchy 
•was  Dupleix.  His  restless,  capacious,  and  inventive  mind 
had  formf'd  this  Bf-home,  at  a  time  when  the  ablest  aer- 


196  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

vants  of  the  English  Company  were  busied  only  about 
invoices  and  bills  of  lading.  Nor  had  he  only  proposed 
to  himself  the  end.  He  had  also  a  just  and  distinct  view 
of  the  means  by  which  it  was  to  be  attained.  He  clearly 
saw  that  the  greatest  force  which  the  princes  of  India 
could  bring  into  the  field  would  be  no  match  for  a  small 
body  of  men  trained  in  the  discipline,  and  guided  by  the 
tactics,  of  the  West.  He  saw  also  that  the  natives  of 
India  might,  under  European  commanders,  be  formed  into 
armies,  such  as  Saxe  or  Frederick  would  be  proud  to  com- 
mand. He  was  perfectly  aware  that  the  most  easy  and 
convenient  way  in  which  an  European  adventurer  could 
exercise  sovereignty  in  India,  was  to  govern  the  motions, 
and  to  speak  through  the  mouth  of  some  glittering  puppet 
dignified  by  the  title  of  Nabob  or  Nizam.  The  arts  both 
of  war  and  policy,  which  a  few  years  later  were  employed 
with  such  signal  success  by  the  English,  were  first  under- 
stood and  practised  by  this  ingenious  and  aspiring 
Frenchman. 

The  situation  of  India  was  such  that  scarcely  any  ag- 
gression could  be  without  a  pretext,  either  in  old  laws  or 
in  recent  practice.  All  rights  were  in  a  state  of  utter 
uncertainty ;  and  the  Europeans  who  took  part  in  the 
disputes  of  the  natives  confounded  the  confusion,  by 
applying  to  Asiatic  politics  the  public  law  of  the  West 
and  analogies  drawn  from  the  feudal  system.  If  it  was 
convenient  to  treat  a  Nabob  as  an  independent  prince, 
there  was  an  excellent  plea  for  doing  so.  He  was  inde- 
pendent in  fact.  If  it  was  convenient  to  treat  him  as  a 
mere  deputy  of  the  Court  of  Delhi,  there  was  no  difficulty ; 
for  he  was  so  in  theory.  If  it  was  convenient  to  consider 
his  office  as  an  hereditary  dignity,  or  as  a  dignity  held 
during  life  only,  or  as  a  dignity  held  only  during  the 
good  pleasure  of  the  Mogul,  arguments  and  precedents 
might  be  found  for  every  one  of  those  views.  The  party 
who  had  the  heir  of  Baber  in  their  hands  represented  him 
as  the  undoubted,  the  legitimate,  the  absolute  sovereign, 
whom  all  subordinate  authorities  were  bound  to  obey. 
The  party  against  whom  his  name  was  used  did  not  want 
plausible  pretexts  for  maintaining  that  the  empire  was 
de  facto  dissolved,  and  that,  though  it  might  be  decent  to 
treat  the  Mogul  with  respect,  as  a  venerable  relic  of  an 


LORD  CLIVE  197 

order  of  things  which  had  passed  away,  it  was  absurd  to 
regard  him  as  the  real  master  of  Hindustan. 

In  the  year  1748,  died  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the 
new  masters  of  India,  the  great  Nizam  al  Mulk,  Viceroy 
of  the  Deccan.  His  authority  descended  to  his  son,  Nazir 
Jung.  Of  the  provinces  subject  to  this  high  functionary, 
the  Carnatic  was  the  wealthiest  and  the  most  extensive. 
It  was  governed  by  an  ancient  Nabob,  whose  name  the 
English  corrupted  into  Anaverdy  Khan. 

But  there  were  pretenders  to  the  government  both  of 
the  viceroyalty  and  of  the  subordinate  province.  Mirzapha 
Jung,  a  grandson  of  Nizam  al  Mulk,  appeared  as  the 
competitor  of  Nazir  Jung.  Chunda  Sahib,  son-in-law  of 
a  former  Nabob  of  the  Carnatic,  disputed  the  title  of 
Anaverdy  Khan.  In  the  unsettled  state  of  Indian  law, 
it  was  easy  for  both  Mirzapha  Jung  and  Chunda  Sahib 
to  make  out  something  like  a  claim  of  right.  In  a  society 
altogether  disorganized,  they  had  no  difficulty  in  finding 
greedy  adventurers  to  follow  their  standards.  They  united 
their  interests,  invaded  the  Carnatic,  and  applied  for  as- 
sistance to  the  French,  whose  fame  had  been  raised  by 
their  success  against  the  English  in  the  recent  war  on 
the  coast  of  Coromandel. 

Nothing  could  have  happened  more  pleasing  to  the 
subtle  and  ambitious  Dupleix.  To  make  a  Nabob  of  the 
Carnatic,  to  make  a  Viceroy  of  the  Deccan,  to  rule  under 
their  names  the  whole  of  southern  India;  this  was  indeed 
an  attractive  prospect.  He  allied  himself  with  the  pre- 
tenders, and  sent  four  hundred  French  soldiers,  and  two 
thousand  sepoys,  discMplincd  after  the  European  fashion, 
to  the  assistance  of  his  confederates.  A  battle  was  fought. 
The  French  distinguishrd  themselves  greatly.  Anaverdy 
Khan  was  defeated  and  slain.  His  son  Mobaniined  Ali, 
who  was  afterwards  well  known  in  England  as  the  Nabob 
of  Arcot,  and  who  owes  to  tlie  eloquence  of  I'urke  a  most 
unenviable  inmiartality,  fled  with  a  scanty  remnant  of 
his  army  to  Trichinopoly ;  and  the  conquerors  became  at 
once  masters  of  almost  everv  part  of  the  Carnatic. 

This  was  but  the  beginning  of  the  greatness  of  Dupleix. 
After  some  months  of  fighting,  negotiation,  and  intrigue, 
his  ability  and  good  fortiiiif-  seemed  to  hav(!  prevailed 
everywhere.     Nazir  Jung  perished   by   tbe  liands  of  his 


198  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

own  followers ;  Mirzapha  Jung  was  master  of  the  Deccan ; 
and  the  triumph  of  French  arms  and  French  policy  was 
complete.  At  Pondicherry  all  was  exultation  and  fes- 
tivity. Salutes  were  fired  from  the  batteries,  and  Te 
Denm  sunj?  in  the  churches.  The  new  Nizam  came 
thither  to  visit  his  allies;  and  the  ceremony  of  his  instal- 
lation was  performed  there  with  great  pomp.  Dupleix, 
dressed  in  the  garb  worn  by  Mohammedans  of  the  highest 
rank,  entered  the  town  in  the  same  palanquin  with  the 
Nizam,  and,  in  the  pageant  which  followed,  took  prece- 
dence of  all  the  court.  He  was  declared  Governor  of  India 
from  the  river  Kristna  to  Cape  C'omorin,  a  country  about 
as  large  as  France,  with  authority  superior  even  to  that 
of  Chunda  Sahib.  He  was  intrusted  with  the  command 
of  seven  thousand  cavalry.  It  was  announced  that  no 
mint  would  be  suffered  to  exist  in  the  Carnatic  except 
that  at  Pondicherry.  A  large  portion  of  the  treasures 
which  former  Viceroys  of  the  Deccan  had  accumulated 
found  its  way  into  the  coffers  of  the  French  governor. 
It  was  rumored  that  he  had  received  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  sterling  in  money,  besides  many  valuable 
jewels.  In  fact,  there  could  scarcely  be  any  limit  to  his 
gains.  He  now  ruled  thirty  millions  of  people  with 
almost  absolute  power.  No  honor  or  emolument  could  be 
obtained  from  the  government  but  by  his  intervention. 
No  petition,  unless  signed  by  him,  was  perused  by  the 
Nizam. 

Mirzapha  Jung  survived  his  elevation  only  a  few 
months.  But  another  prince  of  the  same  house  was 
raised  to  the  throne  by  French  influence,  and  ratified  all 
the  promises  of  his  predecessor.  Dupleix  was  now  the 
greatest  potentate  in  India.  His  countrymen  boasted 
that  his  name  was  mentioned  with  awe  even  in  the  cham- 
bers of  the  palace  of  Delhi.  The  native  population  looked 
with  amazement  on  the  progress  which,  in  the  short  space 
of  four  years,  an  European  adventurer  had  made  toward 
dominion  in  Asia.  Nor  was  the  vainglorious  Frenchman 
content  with  the  reality  of  power.  He  loved  to  display 
his  greatness  with  arrogant  ostentation  before  the  eyes  of 
his  subjects  and  of  his  rivals.  Near  the  spot  where  his 
policy  had  obtained  its  chief  triumph,  by  the  fall  of  Nazir 
Jung  and  the  elevation  of  Mirzapha,  he  determined  to 


LORD  CLIYE  199 

erect  a  column,  on  the  four  sides  of  which  four  pompous 
inscriptions,  in  four  languages,  should  proclaim  his  glory 
to  all  the  nations  of  the  East.  Medals  stamped  with 
emblems  of  his  success  were  buried  beneath  the  founda- 
tions of  this  stately  pillar,  and  round  it  arose  a  town 
bearing  the  haughty  name  of  Dupleix  Fatihabad,  which 
is,  being  interpreted,  the  City  of  the  Victory  of  Dupleix. 

The  English  had  made  some  feeble  and  irresolute  at- 
tempts to  stop  the  rapid  and  brilliant  career  of  the  rival 
Company,  and  continued  to  recognize  Mohammed  Ali  as 
Nabob  of  the  Carnatic.  But  the  dominions  of  Mohammed 
Ali  consisted  of  Trichinopoly  alone;  and  Trichinopoly 
was'now  invested  by  Chunda  Sahib  and  his  French  auxil- 
iaries. To  raise  the  siege  seemed  impossible.  The  small 
force  which  was  then  at  Madras  had  no  commander. 
Major  Lawrence  had  returned  to  England :  and  not  a 
single  officer  of  established  character  remained  in  the  set- 
tlement. The  natives  had  learned  to  look  with  contempt 
on  the  mighty  nation  which  was  soon  to  conquer  and  to 
rule  them.  They  had  seen  the  French  colors  ilying  on 
Fort  St.  George;  they  had  seen  the  chiefs  of  the  English 
factory  led  in  triumph  through  the  streets  of  Pondicherry ; 
they  had  seen  the  arms  and  cfninsels  of  Dupleix  every- 
where successful,  while  the  opposition  which  the  authori- 
ties of  Madras  had  made  to  his  progress  had  served  only 
to  expose  their  own  weakness,  and  to  heighten  his  glory. 
At  this  moment,  the  valor  and  genius  of  an  obscure  Eng- 
lish youth  suddenly  turned  the  tide  of  fortune. 

Clive  was  not  twenty-five  years  old.  After  hesitating 
for  some  time  between  a  military  and  a  commercial  life, 
he  had  at  h-rigth  been  placed  in  a  post  which  partook  of 
both  charafters,  that  of  eonimissary  to  the  trooj^s,  with 
the  rank  of  captain.  The  present  emergency  called  forth 
all  his  powers.  Tie  rcfjresented  to  his  superiors  that, 
unless  some  vigorous  efforts  were  made,  Tritliiiiopoly 
would  fall,  the  House  of  Anaverdy  Khnu  would  perish, 
and  the  French  would  berome  the  real  masters  of  the 
whole  peninsula  of  India.  Jt  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  strike  some  daring  l)low.  If  an  attar-k  were  mafic  on 
Arcot,  the  eapital  of  the  Camatif,  and  the  favorite  resi- 
dence of  the  Nabobs,  it  was  not  impoHsiblc  that  the  siege 
of  Trichinopoly  would  be  raised.     The  heads  of  the  Eng- 


200  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

lish  settlement,  now  thoroughly  alarmed  by  the  success 
of  Dupleix,  and  apprehensive  that,  in  the  event  of  a  new 
war  between  France  and  Great  Britain,  Madras  would 
be  instantly  taken  and  destroyed,  approved  of  Olive's  plan, 
and  intrusted  the  execution  of  it  to  himself.  The  young 
captain  was  put  at  the  head  of  two  hundred  English  sol- 
diers, and  three  hundrey  sepoys  armed  and  disciplined 
after  the  European  fashion.  Of  the  eight  officers  who 
commanded  this  little  force  under  him,  only  two  had  ever 
been  in  action,  and  four  of  the  eight  were  factors  of  the 
company,  whom  Olive's  example  had  induced  to  offer  their 
services.  The  weather  was  stormy ;  but  Olive  pushed  on, 
through  thunder,  lightning,  and  rain,  to  the  gates  of 
Arcot.  The  garrison,  in  a  panic,  evacuated  the  fort,  and 
the  English  entered  it  without  a  blow. 

But  Olive  well  knew  that  he  should  not  be  suffered  to 
retain  undisturbed  possession  of  his  conquest.  He  in- 
stantly began  to  collect  provisions,  to  throw  up  works,  and 
to  make  preparations  for  sustaining  a  siege.  The  garri- 
son, which  had  fled  at  his  approach,  had  now  recovered 
from  its  dismay,  and,  having  been  swollen  by  large  reen- 
forcements  from  the  neighborhood  to  a  force  of  three 
thousand  men,  encamped  close  to  the  town.  At  dead  of 
night,  Olive  marched  out  of  the  fort  and  attacked  the 
camp  by  surprise,  slew  great  numbers,  dispersed  the  rest, 
and  returned  to  his  quarters  without  having  lost  a  single 
man. 

The  intelligence  of  these  events  was  soon  carried  to 
Chunda  Sahib,  who,  with  his  French  allies,  was  besieging 
Trichinopoly.  He  immediately  detached  four  thousand 
men  from  his  camp,  and  sent  them  to  Arcot.  They  were 
speedily  joined  by  the  remains  of  the  fo.rce  which  Olive 
had  lately  scattered.  They  were  further  strengthened  by 
two  thousand  ninn  from  Vellore,  and  by  a  still  more 
important  reenforcoment  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  French 
soldiers  whom  Dupleix  despatched  from  Pondicherry.  The 
whole  of  this  army,  amoimting  to  about  ten  thousand 
men,  was  under  the  command  of  Rajah  Sahib,  son  of 
Chundn  Sahib. 

Rajah  Snliib  proceeded  to  invest  the  fort  of  Arcot, 
which  seemed  quite  incapable  of  sustaining  a  siege.  The 
walls  were  ruinous,  the  ditches  dry,  the  ramparts  too  nar- 


LOKD  CLIYE  201 

row  to  admit  the  ^ns,  the  battlements  too  low  to  protect 
the  soldiers.  The  little  gaxrison  had  been  greatly  reduced 
by  casualties.  It  now  consisted  of  a  hundred  and  twenty 
Europeans  and  two  hundred  sepoys.  Only  four  officers 
were  left;  the  stock  of  provisions  was  scanty;  and  the 
commander,  who  had  to  conduct  the  defense  under  cir- 
cumstances so  discouraging,  was  a  young  man  of  five  and 
twenty,  who  had  been  bred  a  book-keeper. 

Daring  fifty  days  the  siege  went  on.  During  fifty  days 
the  young  captain  maintained  the  defence,  with  a  firm- 
ness, vigilance,  and  ability,  which  would  have  done  honor 
to  the  oldest  marshal  in  Europe.  The  breach,  however, 
increased  dny  by  day.  The  garrison  began  to  feel  the 
pressure  of  hunger.  Under  such  circumstances,  any  troops 
so  scantily  provided  with  officers  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  show  signs  of  insubordination;  and  the  danger 
was  peculiarly  great  in  a  force  composed  of  men  differing 
widely  from  each  other  in  extraction,  color,  language, 
manners,  and  religion.  But  the  devotion  of  the  little  band 
to  its  rhif'f  surpassed  anything  that  is  related  of  the 
Tenth  Legion  of  Caisar,  or  of  the  Old  Guard  of  Napoleon. 
The  sepoys  came  to  Clive,  not  to  complain  of  their  scanty 
fare,  but  to  propose  that  all  the  grain  should  be  given  to 
the  Europeans,  who  required  more  nourishment  than  the 
natives  of  Asia.  Tbe  thin  gruel,  they  said,  which  was 
strained  away  from  the  rice,  would  suffice  for  themselves. 
History  contains  no  more  touching  instance  of  military 
fidelity,  or  of  the  influenee  of  a  commanding  mind. 

An  attempt  made  by  the  government  of  Madras  to  re- 
lieve the  place  had  failed.  But  there  was  hope  from  an- 
other quartor.  A  body  of  six  thousand  "Nfiihrattas,  half 
soldiers,  half  robbers,  under  the  command  of  a  chief 
named  Morari  Row,  had  been  hired  to  assist  Mohammed 
Ali;  but  thinking  tbe  French  power  irresistible,  and  the 
triumph  of  Chunda  Sahib  certain,  they  bad  bitberto  re- 
maine<l  inactive  on  the  frontiers  of  the  Carnatic.  The 
fame  of  the  defense  of  Arcot  roiised  tbcin  from  their 
torpor.  Morari  "Row  doc-larrd  tbat  lie  bad  never  before 
believed  tbat  Eiiglisbrnen  eould  fight,  but  that  he  would 
willingly  br-lp  tliem  since  he  saw  tb.it  tbiy  bad  spirit  to 
help  tbem«elves.  Kajab  Sahib  learned  tbat  tbe  Mahrattas 
were  in  motion.     It  was  necessary  for  him  to  be  expedi- 


202  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

tlous.  He  first  tried  negotiation.  He  offered  large  bribes 
to  Clive,  which  were  rejected  with  scorn.  He  vowed  that, 
if  hi3  proposals  were  not  accepted,  he  would  instantly 
storm  the  fort,  and  put  every  man  in  it  to  the  sword. 
Clive  told  him  in  reply,  with  characteristic  haughtiness, 
that  his  father  was  an  usurper,  that  his  army  was  a  rabble, 
and  that  he  would  do  well  to  think  twice  before  he  sent 
such  poltroons  into  a  breach  defended  by  English  soldiers. 

Rajah  Sahib  determined  to  storm  the  fort.  The  day 
was  well  suited  to  a  bold  military  enterprise.  It  was  the 
great  IMohammedan  festival  which  is  sacred  to  the  mem- 
ory of  Hosien  the  son  of  Ali.  The  history  of  Islam  con- 
tains nothing  more  touching  than  the  event  which  gave 
rise  to  that  solemnity.  The  mournful  legend  relates  how 
the  chief  of  the  Fatimites,  when  all  his  brave  followers 
had  perished  round  him,  drank  his  latest  draught  of  water, 
and  uttered  his  latest  prayer,  how  the  assassins  carried 
his  head  in  triumph,  how  the  tyrant  smote  the  lifeless  lips 
with  his  staff,  and  how  a  few  old  men  recollected  with 
tears  that  they  had  seen  those  lips  pressed  to  the  lips  of 
the  Prophet  of  God.  After  the  lapse  of  near  twelve  cen- 
turies, the  recurrence  of  this  solemn  season  excites  the 
fiercest  and  saddest  emotions  in  the  bosoms  of  the  de- 
vout Moslems  of  India.  They  work  themselves  up  to  such 
agonies  of  rage  and  lamentation  that  some,  it  is  said,  have 
given  up  the  ghost  from  the  mere  effect  of  mental  excite- 
ment. They  believe  that  whoever,  during  this  festival, 
falls  in  arms  against  the  infidels,  atones  by  his  death  for 
all  the  sins  of  his  life,  and  passes  at  once  to  the  garden 
of  the  Houris.  It  was  at  this  time  that  Rajah  Sahib 
determined  to  assault  Arcot.  Stimulating  drugs  were 
employed  to  aid  the  effect  of  religious  zeal,  and  the  be- 
siegers, drunk  with  enthusiasm,  drunk  with  bhang,  rushed 
furiously  to  the  attack. 

Clive  had  received  secret  intelligence  of  the  design,  had 
made  his  arrangements,  and,  exhausted  by  fatigue,  had 
thrown  himself  on  his  bed.  He  was  awakened  by  the 
alarm,  and  was  instantly  at  his  post.  The  enemy  ad- 
vanced driving  before  them  elephants  whose  foreheads 
were  armed  with  iron  plates.  It  was  expected  that  the 
gates  would  yield  to  the  shock  of  these  living  battering- 
rams.     But  the  huge  beasts  no  sooner  felt  the  English 


LORD  CLIVE  203 

musket-balls  than  they  turned  round,  and  rushed  furiously 
away,  trampling:  on  the  multitude  which  had  urged  them 
forward.  A  raft  was  launched  on  the  water  which  filled 
one  part  of  the  ditch.  Clive,  perceiving  that  his  gunners 
at  that  post  did  not  understand  their  business,  took  the 
management  of  a  piece  of  artillery  himself,  and  cleared 
the  raft  in  a  few  minutes.  Where  the  moat  was  dry,  the 
assailants  mounted  with  great  boldness;  but  they  were 
received  with  a  fire  so  heavy  and  so  well-directed,  that  it 
soon  quelled  the  courage  even  of  fanaticism  and  of  intoxi- 
cation. The  rear  ranks  of  the  English  kept  the  front 
ranks  supplied  with  a  constant  succession  of  loaded 
muskets,  and  every  shot  told  on  the  living  mass  below. 
After  three  desperate  onsets,  the  besiegers  retired  behind 
the  ditch. 

The  struggle  lasted  about  an  hour.  Four  hundred  of 
the  assailants  fell.  The  garrison  lost  only  five  or  six  men. 
The  besieged  passed  an  anxious  night,  looking  for  renewal 
of  the  attack.  But  when  day  broke,  the  enemy  were  no 
more  to  be  seen.  They  had  retired,  leaving  to  the  English 
several  guns  and  a  large  quantity  of  ammunition. 

The  news  was  received  at  Fort  St.  George  with  trans- 
ports of  joy  and  pride.  Clive  was  justly  regarded  as  a 
man  equal  to  any  command.  Two  hundred  English  sol- 
diers, and  seven  hundred  sepoys  were  sent  to  him,  and 
with  this  force  he  instantly  commenced  offensive  opera- 
tions. He  took  the  fort  of  Timery,  effected  a  junction 
with  a  division  of  Morari  Kow's  army,  and  hastened,  by 
forced  marches,  to  attack  Kajah  Sahib,  who  was  at  the 
head  of  about  five  thousand  men,  of  whom  three  hundred 
were  Frenr-h.  The  action  was  sharp,  but  Clive  gained  a 
complete  victory.  The  military  chest  of  Rajah  Sahib  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  conquerors.  Six  hundred  sepoys, 
who  had  served  in  tho  enemy's  army,  came  over  to  Clive's 
quarters,  and  wore  takfii  into  the  British  service.  Con- 
jeveram  surrendered  without  a  blow.  The  governor  of 
Arnop  desertnd  Chunda  Sahib,  and  recognized  the  title 
of  Mf)hnmmo(l  Ali. 

Had  the  entire  direction  of  the  war  been  intrusted  to 
Clive,  it  would  prolinbly  have  been  brought  to  a  speedy 
close.  But  the  timidity  and  iiifapacity  wliich  appeared 
in  all  the  movements  of  the  English,  except  where  he  was 


J 


204  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

personally  present,  protracted  the  struggle.    The  Mahrat- 
tas  muttered   that  his   soldiers   were  of  a   different  race 
from  the  British  whom  they  found  elsewhere.     The  effect 
of  this  languor  was,  that  in  no  long  time  Rajah  Sahib,  at 
the  head  of  a  considerable  army,  in  which  were  four  hun- 
dred French  troops,  appeared  almost  under  the  guns  of 
Fort   St.  George  and  laid  waste  the  villas   and  gardens 
of  the  gentlemen  of  the  English  settlement.    But  he  was 
again  encountered  and  defeated  by  Clive.     More  than  a 
hundred  of  the  French  were  killed  or  taken,  a  loss  more 
serious  than  that  of  thousands  of  natives.     The  victorious 
army  marched  from  the  field  of  battle  to  Fort  St.  David. 
On  the  road  lay  the  City  of  the  Victory  of  Dupleix,  and 
the  stately  monument  which  was  designed  to  commemo- 
rate the  triumphs  of  France  in  the  East.     Clive  ordered 
both  the  city  and  the  monument  to  be  razed  to  the  ground. 
He  was  induced,  we  believe,  to  take  this  step,  not  by 
personal  or  national  malevolence,  but  by  a  just  and  pro- 
found policy.    The  town  and  its  pompous  name,  the  pillar 
and   its  vaunting  inscriptions,  were   among  the  devices 
by  which  Dupleix  had  laid  the  public  mind  of  India  under 
a  spell.    This  spell  it  was  dive's  business  to  break.     The 
natives  had  been  taught  that  France  was  confessedly  the 
first  power  in  Europe,  and  that  the  English  did  not  pre- 
sume to  dispute  her  supremacy.     No  measure  could  be 
more  effectual  for  the  removing  of  this  delusion  than  the 
public  and  solemn  demolition  of  the  French  trophies. 

The  government  of  Madras,  encouraged  by  these  events, 
determined  to  send  a  strong  detachment,  under  Clive,  to 
reinforce  the  garrison  of  Trichinopoly.  But  just  at  this 
conjuncture,  Major  Lawrence  arrived  from  England,  and 
assumed  the  chief  command.  From  the  waywardness  and 
impatience  of  control  which  had  characterized  Clive,  both 
at  school  and  in  the  counting-house,  it  might  have  been 
expected  that  he  would  not,  after  such  achievements,  act 
with  zeal  and  good  humor  in  a  subordinate  capacity. 
But  Lawrence  had  early  treated  him  with  kindness;  and 
it  is  bare  justice  to  Clive  to  say  that,  proud  and  over- 
bearing as  he  was,  kindness  was  never  thrown  away  upon 
him.  He  cheerfully  placed  himself  under  the  orders  of 
his  old  friend,  and  exerted  himself  as  strenuously  in  the 
second  post  as  he  could  have  done  in  the  first.    Lawrence 


LOED  CLIVE  205 

well  knew  the  value  of  such  assistance.  Though  himself 
gifted  with  no  intellectual  faculty  higher  than  plain  good 
sense,  he  fully  appreciated  the  powers  of  his  brilliant 
coadjutor.  Though  he  had  made  a  methodical  study  of 
military  tactics,  and,  like  all  men  regularly  bred  to  a 
profession,  was  disposed  to  look  with  disdain  on  inter- 
lopers, he  had  yet  liberality  enough  to  acknowledge  that 
Clive  was  an  exception  to  common  rules,  "Some  people," 
he  wrote,  "are  pleased  to  term  Captain  Clive  fortunate 
and  lucky ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  from  the  knowledge  I  have 
of  the  gentleman,  he  deserved  and  might  expect  from  his 
conduct  everj'thing  as  it  fell  out; — a  man  of  an  un- 
daunted resolution,  of  a  cool  temper,  and  of  a  presence 
of  mind  which  never  left  him  in  the  greatest  danger — 
born  a  soldier;  for,  without  a  military  education  of  any 
sort,  or  much  conversing  with  any  of  the  profession,  from 
his  judgment  and  good  sense,  he  led  on  an  army  like  an 
experienced  officer  and  a  brave  soldier,  with  a  prudence 
that  certainly  warranted  success." 

The  Frenfh  had  no  commander  to  oppose  to  the  two 
friends.  Dupleix,  not  inferior  in  talents  for  negotiation 
and  intrigue  to  any  European  who  has  borne  a  part  in 
the  revolutions  of  India,  was  not  qualified  to  direct  in 
person  military  operations.  He  had  not  been  bred  a  sol- 
dier, and  had  no  inclination  to  become  one.  His  enemies 
(U'cused  him  of  personal  cowardice;  and  he  defended  him- 
self in  a  strain  worthy  of  Captain  Bobadil.  He  kept 
away  from  shot,  he  said,  because  silence  and  tranquillity 
were  propitious  to  his  genius,  and  he  found  it  difficult  to 
pursue  his  meditations  amidst  the  noise  of  firearms.  He 
was  thus  under  the  necessity  of  intrusting  to  others  thci 
execution  of  his  great  wjirlike  designs;  and  he  bitterly 
complained  that  he  was  ill  served.  He  had  indeed  been 
assisted  by  one  officer  of  ettiinent  merit,  tlie  celr'brated 
Russy.  Knt  T'nssy  bad  niarched  norfbward  witli  tb(? 
Nizam,  and  was  fully  employed  in  looking  after  his  own 
interests,  and  those  of  France,  at  tlie  court  of  that  prince. 
Among  the  officers  who  remained  with  Diqjleix,  tbcre  was 
not  a  single  man  of  capacity;  and  many  of  them  were 
boys,  at  whose  ignorance  and  folly  the  common  soldiers 
laughed. 

The  English  triumphed  everywhere.     The  besiegers  of 


206  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Trithiiiopoly  were  themselves  besieged  and  compelled  to 
capitulate.  Chunda  Sahib  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
^lahrattas,  and  was  put  to  death,  at  the  instigation  prob- 
ably of  his  competitor,  Mohannned  Ali.  The  spirit  of 
Dupleix,  however,  was  unconquerable,  and  his  resources 
inexhaustible.  From  his  employers  in  Europe  he  no 
longer  received  help  or  countenance.  They  condemned 
his  policy.  They  gave  him  no  pecuniary  assistance.  They 
sent  him  for  troops  only  the  sweepings  of  the  galleys.  Yet 
still  he  persisted,  intrigued,  bribed,  promised,  lavished  his 
private  fortune,  strained  his  credit,  procured  new  diplo- 
mas from  Delhi,  raised  up  new  enemies  to  the  government 
of  Madras  on  every  side,  and  found  tools  even  among  the 
allies  of  the  English  Company.  But  all  was  in  vain. 
Slowly,  but  steadily,  the  power  of  Britain  continued  to 
increase,  and  that  of  France  to  decline. 

The  health  of  Clive  had  never  been  good  during  his 
residence  in  India ;  and  his  constitution  was  now  so  much 
impaired  that  he  determined  to  return  to  England.  Be- 
fore his  departure  he  undertook  a  service  of  considerable 
difficulty,  and  performed  it  with  his  usual  vigor  and 
dexterity.  The  forts  of  Covelong  and  Chingleput  were 
occupied  by  French  garrisons.  It  was  determined  to  send 
a  force  against  them.  But  the  only  force  available  for 
this  purpose  was  of  such  a  description  that  no  officer  but 
Clive  would  risk  his  reputation  by  commanding  it.  It 
consisted  of  five  hundred  newly  levied  sepoys,  and  two 
hundred  recruits  who  had  just  landed  from  England,  and 
who  were  the  worst  aiid  lowest  wretches  that  the  Com- 
pany's crimps  could  pick  up  in  the  flash-houses  of  Lon- 
don. Clive,  ill  and  exhausted  as  he  was,  undertook  to 
make  an  army  of  this  undisciplined  rabble,  and  marched 
with  them  to  Covelong.  A  shot  from  the  fort  killed  one 
of  these  extraordinary  soldiers;  on  which  all  the  rest  faced 
about  and  ran  away,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  Clive  rallied  them.  On  another  occasion,  the  noise 
of  a  gun  terrified  the  sentinels  so  much  that  one  of  them 
was  found,  some  hours  later,  at  the  bottom  of  a  well. 
Clive  gradually  accustomed  them  to  danger^  and,  by  ex- 
posing himself  constantly  in  the  most  perilous  situations, 
shamed  them  into  courage.  He  at  length  succeeded  in 
forming  a  respectable  force  out  of  his  unpromising  ma- 


LORD  CLIVE  207 

terials.  Covelong  fell.  Clive  learned  that  a  strong  de- 
tachment was  marching  to  relieve  it  from  Chingleput. 
He  took  measures  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  learning 
that  they  were  too  late,  laid  ambuscade  for  them  on  the 
road,  killed  a  hundred  of  them  with  one  fire,  took  three 
hundred  prisoners,  pursued  the  fugitives  to  the  gates  of 
Chingleput,  laid  siege  instantly  to  that  fastness,  reputed 
one  of  the  strongest  in  India,  made  a  breach,  and  was  on 
the  point  of  storming  when  the  French  commandant 
capitulated  and  retired  with  his  men. 

Clive  returned  to  Madras  victorious,  but  in  a  state  of 
health  which  rendered  it  impossible  for  him  to  remain 
there  long.  He  married  at  this  time  a  young  lady  of  the 
name  of  Maskelyne,  sister  of  the  eminent  mathematician, 
who  long  held  the  post  of  Astronomer  Royal.  She  is  de- 
scribed as  handsome  and  accomplished;  and  her  husband's 
letters,  it  is  said,  contain  i^roof  that  he  was  devotedly 
attached  to  her. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  marriage,  Clive  embarked 
with  his  bride  for  England,  lie  returned  a  very  different 
person  from  the  poor  slighted  boy  who  had  been  sent  out 
ten  years  before  to  seek  his  fortune.  He  was  only  twenty- 
seven ;  yet  his  country  already  respected  him  as  one  of 
her  first  soldiers.  There  was  then  general  peace  in  Eu- 
rope. The  Carnatic  was  the  only  part  of  the  world  where 
the  English  and  Frciicb  were  in  arms  against  each  other. 
The  vast  scheme  of  Dupleix  had  excited  no  small  uneasi- 
ness in  the  city  of  London  ;  and  the  rapid  turn  of  fortune, 
which  was  chiefly  owing  to  the  courage  and  talents  of 
Clive,  had  been  hailed  with  great  delight.  The  young 
cMj)tain  was  known  at  the  India  House  by  the  honorable 
iiifkname  of  CJeneral  Clive,  and  was  toasted  by  that  ap- 
pellation at  the  feasts  of  the  Directors.  On  his  arrival 
in  En^rland,  be  fonnd  hiinsflf  an  object  of  general  interest 
and  admiration.  The  Kast  India  Cf)mj)any  thanked  him 
for  his  services  in  the  warmest  terms,  and  bestowed  on 
him  a  sword  set  witli  dianumds.  With  rare  delicacy,  he 
refused  to  receive  this  token  of  gratitude  unless  a  similar 
comj»liment  were  pnirl  to  his  friend  and  commander, 
Lawrence. 

It  may  easily  be  supposed  that  ('live  was  most  cordially 
welcomed  home  by  his  family,  who  were  delighted  by  his 


208  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

success,  though  they  seem  to  have  been  hardly  able  to 
comprehend  how  their  naughty  idle  Bobby  had  become  so 
great  a  man.  His  father  had  been  singularly  hard  of 
belief.  Not  until  the  news  of  the  defense  of  Arcot  ar- 
rived in  England  was  the  old  gentleman  heard  to  growl 
out  that,  after  all,  the  booby  had  something  in  him.  His 
expressions  of  approbation  became  stronger  and  stronger 
as  news  arrived  of  one  brilliant  exploit  after  another;  and 
he  was  at  length  immoderately  fond  and  proud  of  his  son. 

Olive's  relations  had  very  substantial  reasons  for  re- 
joicing at  his  return.  Oonsiderable  sums  of  prize-money 
had  fallen  to  his  share;  and  he  had  brought  home  a  mod- 
erate fortune,  part  of  which  he  eJipended  in  extricating 
his  father  from  pecuniary  diflSculties,  and  in  redeeming 
the  family  estate.  The  remainder  he  appears  to  have  dis- 
sipated in  the  course  of  about  two  years.  He  lived  splen- 
didly, dressed  gaily  even  for  those  times,  kept  a  carriage 
and  saddle  horses,  and,  not  content  with  these  ways  of 
getting  rid  of  his  money,  resorted  to  the  most  speedy  and 
effectual  of  all  modes  of  evacuation,  a  contested  election 
followed  by  a  petition. 

At  the  time  of  the  general  election  of  1754,  the  govern- 
ment was  in  a  very  singular  state.  There  was  scarcely 
any  formal  opposition.  The  Jacobites  had  been  cowed 
by  the  issue  of  the  last  rebellion.  The  Tory  party  had 
fallen  into  utter  contempt.  It  had  been  deserted  by  all 
the  men  of  talents  who  had  belonged  to  it,  and  had 
scarcely  given  a  symptom  of  life  during  some  years.  The 
small  faction  which  had  been  held  together  by  the  influ- 
ence and  promises  of  Prince  Frederic,  had  been  dispersed 
by  his  death.  Almost  every  public  man  of  distinguished 
talents  in  the  kingdom,  whatever  his  early  connections 
might  have  been,  was  in  office,  and  called  himself  a  Whig. 
But  this  extraordinary  appearance  of  concord  was  quite 
delusive.  The  administration  itself  was  distracted  by 
bitter  enmities  and  conflicting  pretensions.  The  chief 
object  of  its  members  was  to  depress  and  supplant  each 
other.  The  Prime  Minister,  Newcastle,  weak,  timid, 
jealous,  and  perfidious,  was  at  once  detested  and  despised 
by  some  of  the  most  important  members  of  his  govern- 
ment, and  by  none  more  than  by  Henry  Fox,  the  Secretary 
at  War.     This   able,   daring,   and   ambitious  man  seized 


LORD  CLIVE  209 

every  opportunity  of  crossing  the  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury,  from  whom  he  well  knew  that  he  had  little  to 
dread  and  little  to  hope;  for  Newcastle  was  through  life 
equally  afraid  of  breaking  with  men  of  parts  and  of  pro- 
moting them. 

Newcastle  had  set  his  heart  on  returning  two  members 
for  St.  Michael,  one  of  those  wretched  Cornish  boroughs 
which  were  swept  away  by  the  Reform  Act  in  1832.  He 
was  opposed  by  Lord  Sandwich,  whose  influence  had  long 
been  paramount  there :  and  Fox  exerted  himself  strenu- 
ously in  Sandwich's  behalf.  Clive,  who  had  been  intro- 
duced to  Fox,  and  very  kindly  received  by  him,  was 
bronght  forward  on  the  Sandwich  interest,  and  was  re- 
turned. But  a  petition  was  presented  against  the  re- 
turn, and  was  backed  by  the  whole  influence  of  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle. 

The  case  was  heard,  according  to  the  usage  of  that  time, 
before  a  committee  of  the  whole  House.  Questions  re- 
specting elections  were  then  considered  merely  as  party 
questions.  Judicial  impartiality  was  not  even  afi'ected. 
Sir  Robert  Walpole  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  openly 
that,  in  election  battles,  there  ought  to  be  no  quarter.  On 
the  present  occasion  the  excitement  was  great.  The  mat- 
ter really  at  issue  was,  not  whether  Clive  had  been  prop- 
erly or  improperly  returned,  but  whether  Newcastle  or 
Fox  was  to  be  master  of  the  new  House  of  Commons, 
and  consequently  first  minister.  The  contest  was  long 
and  obstinate,  and  success  seemed  to  lean  sometimes  to 
one  side  and  sometimes  to  the  other.  Fox  put  forth  all 
his  rare  powers  of  debate,  beat  half  the  lawyers  in  the 
House  at  tlicir  own  weapons,  and  carried  division  after 
division  against  the  wlioh;  influence  of  the  Treasury.  The 
committee  dofidfd  in  Clive's  favor.  But  whi-n  the  resolu- 
tion was  Tf-portcd  to  the  House,  things  took  a  different 
course.  The  remnant  of  the  Tory  Ofiposition,  contempt- 
ible as  it  was,  had  yet  sufficient  weight  to  turn  the  scale 
between  the  nicely-balanced  jiarties  of  Newcastle  and  Fox. 
Newcastle  the  Tories  could  rmly  despise.  Vox  they  hated, 
as  the  boldest  anfj  most  subtle  politician  and  tlie  ablest 
debater  among  the  Whigs,  as  the  steaiiy  friend  of  Walpole, 
as  the  flevoted  adherent  of  the  Duke  of  CumlxTljiiid. 
After  wavering  till  the  last  moment,  they  determined   to 


210  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

vote  in  a  body  with  the  Prime  Minister's  friends.  The 
consequence  was  that  the  House,  by  a  small  majority, 
rescinded  the  decision  of  the  committee,  and  Clive  was 
unseated. 

Ejected  from  Parliament  and  straitened  in  his  means, 
he  naturally  be^'an  to  look  again  toward  India.  The 
Company  and  the  Government  were  eapjer  to  avail  them- 
selves of  his  services.  A  treaty  favorable  to  Eng:land  had 
indeed  been  concluded  in  the  Carnatic.  Dupleix  had 
been  superseded,  and  had  returned  with  the  wreck  of  his 
immense  fortune  to  Europe,  where  calumny  and  chicanery 
soon  hunted  him  to  his  grave.  But  many  signs  indicated 
that  a  war  between  France  and  Great  Britain  was  at 
hand;  and  it  was  therefore  thought  desirable  to  send  an 
able  commander  to  the  Company's  settlement  in  India. 
The  Directors  appointed  Clive  governor  of  Fort  St.  David. 
The  King  gave  him  the  commission  of  a  lieutenant-colonel 
in  the  British  army,  and  in  1755  he  again  sailed  for  Asia. 

The  first  service  on  which  he  was  emi)loyed  after  his 
return  to  the  East  was  the  reduction  of  the  stronghold 
of  Gheriah.  This  fortress,  built  on  a  craggy  promontory, 
and  almost  surrounded  by  the  ocean,  was  the  den  of  a 
pirate  named  Angria,  whose  barks  had  long  been  the 
terror  of  the  Arabian  Gulf.  Admiral  Watson,  who  com- 
manded the  English  s(}uadron  in  the  Eastern  seas,  burned 
Angria's  fleet,  while  Clive  attacked  the  fastness  by  land. 
The  place  soon  fell,  and  a  booty  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  pounds  sterling  was  divided  among  the  con- 
querors. 

After  this  exploit,  Clive  proceeded  to  his  government 
at  Fort  St.  David.  Before  he  had  been  there  two  months, 
he  received  intelligence  which  called  forth  all  the  energy 
of  his  bold  and  active  mind. 

Of  the  provinces  which  had  been  subject  to  the  House 
of  Tamerlane,  the  wealthiest  was  Bengal.  No  part  of 
India  possessed  such  natural  advantages,  both  for  agri- 
culture and  for  commerce.  The  Ganges,  rushing  through 
a  hundred  channels  to  the  sea,  has  formed  a  vast  plain 
of  rich  mold  which,  even  under  the  tropical  sky,  rivals 
the  verdure  of  an  English  April.  The  rice  fields  yield 
an  increase  such  as  is  elsewhere  unknown.  Spices,  sugar, 
vegetable  oils,  are  produced  with  marvelous  exuberance. 


LORD  CLIVE  211 

The  rivers  afford  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  fish.  The 
desolate  islands  along  the  seaeoast,  overgrown  by  noxious 
vegetation  and  swarming  with  deer  and  tigers,  supply 
the  cultivated  districts  with  abundance  of  salt.  The  great 
stream  which  fertilizes  the  soil  is,  at  the  same  time,  the 
chief  highway  of  Eastern  commerce.  On  its  banks,  and 
on  those  of  its  tributary  waters,  are  the  wealthiest  marts, 
the  most  splendid  capitals,  and  the  most  sacred  shrines 
of  India.  The  tyranny  of  man  had  for  ages  struggled  in 
vain  against  the  overflowing  bounty  of  nature.  In  spite 
of  the  Mussulman  despot,  and  of  the  Mahratta  freebooter, 
Bengal  was  known  through  the  East  as  the  garden  of 
E'd'en,  as  the  rich  kingdom.  Its  population  multiplied  ex- 
ceedingly. Distant  provinces  were  nourished  from  the 
overflowing  of  its  granaries;  and  the  noble  ladies  of 
London  and  Paris  were  clothed  in  the  delicate  produce 
of  its  looms.  The  race  by  whom  this  rich  tract  was 
peopled,  ener\'ated  by  a  soft  climate  and  accustomed  to 
peaceful  avocations,  bore  the  same  relation  to  other 
Asiatics  which  the  Asiatics  generally  bear  to  the  bold 
and  energetic  children  of  Europe.  The  Castilians  have 
a  proverb  that  in  Valencia  the  earth  is  water  and  the 
men  women ;  and  the  description  is  at  least  equally  ap- 
plicable to  the  vast  plain  of  the  Lower  Ganges.  Whatever 
the  Bengalee  does  he  docs  languidly.  His  favorite  pur- 
suits are  sedentary.  He  shrinks  from  bodily  exertion; 
and,  though  voln!)]e  in  dispute,  and  singularly  pertina- 
cious in  the  war  of  chicane,  he  seldom  engages  in  a  per- 
sonal conflift,  and  scarcely  ever  enlists  as  a  soldier.  We 
doubt  whether  there  be  a  hundred  genuine  Bengalees  in 
the  whole  army  of  the  East  Indian  Company.  There 
never,  perhaps,  existed  a  people  so  thoroughly  fitted  by 
nature  and  by  habit  for  a  foreign  yoke. 

The  great  commercial  companies  of  Europe  had  long 
possessed  factories  in  l^cngal.  The  French  were  settled, 
ns  they  still  are,  at  ChMiidcriiag(»re  on  tli(>  TToogley. 
Higher  up  the  stream  the  Dutch  tradr-rs  held  (Miinsurnh. 
Nearer  to  the  sen,  the  English  bad  built  Fort  William. 
A  church  and  ample  warehouses  rose  in  the  vicinity.  A 
row  of  spacious  houses,  belonging  to  the  chief  factors  of 
the  East  India  rompany,  lined  flic  banks  of  the  river; 
and  in  the  neighborhood  had  sprung  up  a  large  and  busy 


212  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

native  town,  whore  some  Hindu  merchants  of  great 
opulence  had  fixed  their  abode.  But  the  tract  now  covered 
by  the  palaces  of  Chowringhee  contained  only  a  few  mis- 
erable huts  thatched  with  straw.  A  jungle,  abandoned 
to  waterfowl  and  alligators,  covered  the  site  of  the  present 
Citadel,  and  the  Course,  which  is  now  daily  crowded  at 
sunset  with  the  gayest  equipages  of  Calcutta.  For  the 
ground  on  which  the  settlement  stood,  the  English,  like 
other  great  landholders,  paid  rent  to  the  government;  and 
they  were,  like  other  great  landholders,  permitted  to  ex- 
ercise a  certain  jurisdiction  within  their  domain. 

The  great  province  of  Bengal,  together  with  Orissa  and 
Bahar,  had  long  been  governed  by  a  viceroy,  whom  the 
English  called  Aliverdy  Khan,  and  who,  like  the  other 
viceroys  of  the  Mogul,  had  become  virtually  independent. 
He  died  in  1756,  and  the  sovereignty  descended  to  his 
grandson,  a  youth  under  twenty  years  of  age,  who  bore 
the  name  of  Surajah  DoAvlah.  Oriental  despots  are  per- 
haps the  worst  class  of  human  beings;  and  this  unhappy 
boy  was  one  of  the  worst  specimens  of  his  class.  His 
understanding  was  naturally  feeble,  and  his  temper  nat- 
urally unamiable.  His  education  had  been  such  as  would 
have  enervated  even  a  vigorous  intellect  and  perverted 
even  a  generous  disposition.  He  was  unreasonable,  be- 
cause nobody  ever  dared  to  reason  with  him,  and  selfish, 
because  he  had  never  been  made  to  feel  himself  dependent 
on  the  good-will  of  others.  Early  debauchery  had  un- 
nerved his  body  and  his  mind.  He  indulged  immoderately 
in  the  use  of  ardent  spirits,  which  inflamed  his  weak  brain 
almost  to  madness.  His  chosen  companions  were  flatter- 
ers, sprung  from  the  dregs  of  the  people,  and  recommended 
by  nothing  but  buffoonery  and  servility.  It  is  said  that 
he  had  arrived  at  that  last  stage  of  human  depravity, 
when  cruelty  becomes  pleasing  for  its  own  sake,  when 
the  sight  of  pain,  as  pain,  where  no  advantage  is  to  be 
gained,  no  offense  punished,  no  danger  averted,  is  an 
agreeable  excitement.  It  had  early  been  his  amusement 
to  torture  beasts  and  birds;  and,  when  he  grew  up,  he 
enjoyed  with  still  keener  relish  the  misery  of  his  fellow- 
creatures. 

From  a  child  Surajah  Dowlah  had  hated  the  English. 
It  was  his  whim  to  do  so;  and  his  whims  were  never  op- 


LORD  CLIVE  213 

posed.  He  had  also  formed  a  very  exaggerated  notion  of 
the  wealth  which  might  be  obtained  by  plundering  them; 
and  his  feeble  and  uncultivated  mind  was  incapable  of 
perceiving  that  the  riches  of  Calcutta,  had  they  been  even 
greater  than  he  imagined,  would  not  compensate  him  for 
what  he  must  lose,  if  the  European  trade,  of  which  Bengal 
was  a  chief  seat,  should  be  driven  by  his  violence  to  some 
other  quarter.  Pretexts  for  a  quarrel  were  readily  found. 
The  English,  in  expectation  of  a  war  with  France,  had 
begun  to  fortify  their  settlement  without  special  permis- . 
sion  from  the  Nabob.  A  rich  native,  whom  he  longed  to 
plunder,  had  taken  refuge  at  Calcutta,  and  had  not  been 
delivered  up.  On  such  grounds  as  these  Surajah  Dowlah 
marched  with  a  great  army  against  Fort  William. 

The  servants  of  the  Company  at  Madras  had  been  forced 
by  Dupleix  to  become  statesmen  and  soldiers.  Those  in 
Bengal  were  still  mpre  traders,  and  were  terrified  and 
bewildered  by  the  approaching  danger.  The  governor, 
who  had  heard  much  of  Surajah  Dowlah's  cruelty,  was 
frightened  out  of  his  wits,  jumped  into  a  boat,  and  took 
refuge  in  the  nearest  ship.  The  military  connnandant 
thought  that  ho  could  not  do  better  than  follow  so  good 
an  example.  The  fort  was  taken  after  a  feeble  resistance; 
and  great  numbers  of  the  English  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  conquerors.  The  Xaliob  seated  himself  with  regal 
pomp  in  the  principal  hall  of  the  factory,  and  ordered 
Mr.  TFolwr'H,  the  first  in  rank  among  the  jirisoners,  to  be 
brought  before  him.  His  Highness  al)use(l  the  insolence 
of  the  English,  ami  grinnl)l('d  at  the  smallness  of  the 
treasure  whieh  he  had  found;  l)ut  promised  to  spare  their 
lives,  and  retired  to  rest. 

Then  wa'^  committed  that  great  crime,  memorable  for 
its  singular  atroeity,  memorable  for  llie.  treincndoiis  retri- 
bution by  whieh  it  was  followed.  The  F^nirlish  caT)tive3 
were  left  to  the  merey  of  the  guards,  and  the  guards  de- 
termined to  secure  them  for  tlif  night  in  the  jjrison  of 
the  garrison,  a  cliamber  known  by  the  fearful  name  of  tho 
Blaek  Hole.  Even  for  a  single  Kuropean  malefactor,  that 
dungeon  would,  in  such  a  clinuite,  liave  been  too  close  aiul 
narrow.  The  space  was  only  twenty  feet  square.  The 
air-holes  were  small  and  obstructed.  It  was  tho  surmnor 
solstice,   the  season   when   the  fierce;  heat  of  Bengal  can 


214  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

scarcely  be  rendered  tolerable  to  natives  of  England  by 
lofty  halls  and  by  the  constant  waving  of  fans.  The 
number  of  prisoners  was  one  hundred  and  forty-six. 
When  they  were  ordered  to  enter  the  cell,  they  imagined 
that  the  soldiers  were  joking;  and,  being  in  high  spirits 
on  account  of  the  promise  of  the  Nabob  to  spare  their 
lives,  they  laughed  and  jested  at  the  absurdity  of  the 
notion.  They  soon  discovered  their  mistake.  They 
expostulated ;  they  entreated ;  but  in  vain.  The 
guards  threatened  to  cut  down  all  who  hesitated.  The 
captives  were  driven  into  the  cell  at  the  point  of  the 
sword,  and  the  door  was  instantly  shut  and  locked  upon 
them. 

Nothing  in  history  or  fiction,  not  even  the  story  which 
Ugolino  *  told  in  the  sea  of  everlasting  ice,  after  he  had 
wiped  his  bloody  lips  on  the  scalp  of  his  murderer,  ap- 
proaches the  horrors  which  were  recounted  by  the  few 
survivors  of  that  night.  They  cried  for  mercy.  They 
strove  to  burst  the  door.  Holwell  who,  even  in  that  ex- 
tremity, retained  some  presence  of  mind,  oflFered  large 
bribes  to  the  jailers.  But  the  answer  was  that  nothing 
could  be  done  without  the  Nabob's  orders,  that  the  Nabob 
was  asleep,  and  that  he  would  be  angry  if  anybody  woke 
him.  Then  the  prisoners  went  mad  with  despair.  They 
trampled  each  other  down,  fought  for  the  places  at  the 
windows,  fought  for  the  pittance  of  water  with  which  the 
cruel  mercy  of  the  murderers  mocked  their  agonies,  raved, 
prayed,  blasphemed,  implored  the  guards  to  fire  among 
them.  The  jailers  in  the  mean  time  held  lights  to  the 
bars,  and  shouted  with  laughter  at  the  frantic  struggles 
of  their  victims.  At  length  the  tumult  died  away  in  low 
gaspings  and  moanings.  The  day  broke.  The  Nabob  had 
slept  ofiF  his  debauch,  and  permitted  the  door  to  be  opened. 
But  it  was  some  time  before  the  soldiers  could  make  a 
lane  for  the  survivors,  by  piling  up  on  each  side  the  heaps 
of  corpses  on  which  the  burning  climate  had  already  be- 
gun to  do  its  loathsome  work.  When  at  length  a  passage 
was  made,  twenty-three  ghastly  figures,  such  as  their  own 
mothers  would  not  have  known,  staggered  one  by  one  out 

•  Ugolino  was  an  Italian  party  leader  of  the  13th  century,  the 
Btory  of  whose  imprisonment  and  death  forms  an  episode  In  Dante's 
"Inferno." 


LORD  CLIVE  215 

of  the  charnel-house.  A  pit  was  instantly  dug.  The  dead 
bodies,  a  hundred  and  twenty-three  in  number,  were  flung 
into  it  promiscuously,  and  covered  up. 

But  these  things  which,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than 
eighty  years,  cannot  be  told  or  read  without  horror, 
awakened  neither  remorse  nor  pity  in  the  bosom  of  the 
savage  Nabob.  He  inflicted  no  punishment  on  the  mur- 
derers. He  showed  no  tenderness  to  the  survivors.  Some 
of  them,  indeed,  from  whom  nothing  was  to  be  got,  were 
suffered  to  depart;  but  those  from  whom  it  was  thought 
that  anything  could  be  extorted  were  treated  with 
execrable  cruelty.  Holwell,  unable  to  walk,  was  carried 
before  the  tyrant,  who  reproached  him,  threatened  him, 
and  sent  him  up  the  country  in  irons,  together  with  some 
other  gentlemen  who  were  suspected  of  knowing  more 
than  they  chose  to  tell  about  the  treasures  of  the  Com- 
pany. These  persons,  still  bowed  down  by  the  sufferings 
of  that  great  agony,  were  lodged  in  miserable  sheds,  and 
fed  only  with  grain  and  water,  till  at  length  the  interces- 
sions of  the  female  relations  of  the  Nabob  procured  their 
release.  One  Englishwoman  had  survived  that  night. 
She  was  placed  in  the  harem  of  the  Prince  at  Murshi- 
dabad. 

Surajah  Dowlah,  in  the  mean  time,  sent  letters  to  his 
nominal  sovereign  at  Delhi,  describing  the  late  conquest 
in  the  most  pompous  language.  He  placed  a  garrison  in 
Fort  William,  forliade  any  Englishman  to  dwell  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  directrd  that,  in  memory  of  his  great 
actions,  Calcutta  should  thfru-cforward  be  called  Alina- 
gore,  that  is  to  say,  the  Port  of  God. 

In  August  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Calcutta  reached 
'^^ild^as,  and  excited  the  fierfcst  and  bitterest  resentment. 
The  cry  of  tin-  whole  sctflcment  was  for  vengeance. 
Within  forty-eight  hours  after  the  arrival  of  the  intel- 
lig(»nce  it  was  (IctcrniiMfd  that  an  cxpi'dit  ion  should  l)e 
sent  to  the  Hngli,  ntid  tliat  f^Iivc  should  ln'  at  the  head 
of  the  land  fomes.  The  naval  armament  was  under  the 
command  f)f  ,\diniral  Watson.  Niiu-  Inindrcd  Knirlish 
infantr>',  finp  troops  and  full  of  sjiirit,  and  fifteen 
hundred  sepoys,  composed  the  army  wliidi  sailed  to 
puni-^h  a  Priner-  wlio  had  niorf  subjects  than  Lf)uis  the 
Fifteenth   or   the    Empress    Maria    Theresa.     Tn    ()ctol)er 


216  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

the  expedition  sailed;  but  it  had  to  make  its  way 
ajrainst  adverse  winds,  and  did  not  reach  Bengal  till 
Deeeniber. 

The  Nabob  was  revelinp:  in  fancied  security  at  Murshi- 
dabad.  He  was  so  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  state  of 
foreign  countries  that  he  often  used  to  say  that  there 
were  not  ten  thousand  men  in  all  Europe;  and  it  had 
never  occurred  to  him  as  possible,  that  the  Englisli  would 
dare  to  invade  his  dominions.  But,  though  undisturbed 
by  any  fear  of  their  military  power,  he  began  to  miss 
them  greatly.  His  revenues  fell  off;  and  his  ministers 
succeeded  in  making  him  understand  that  a  ruler  may 
sometimes  find  it  more  profitable  to  protect  traders  in 
the  open  enjoyment  of  their  gains  than  to  put  them  to 
torture  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  hidden  chests  of 
gold  and  jewels.  He  was  already  disposed  to  permit  the 
Company  to  resume  its  mercantile  operations  in  his  coun- 
try, when  he  received  the  news  that  an  English  armament 
was  in  the  Hugli.  He  instantly  ordered  all  his  troops 
to  assemble  at  Murshidabad,  and  marched  toward  Cal- 
cutta. 

Clive  had  commenced  operations  Avith  his  usual  vigor. 
He  took  Budgebudge,  routed  the  garrison  of  Fort  William, 
recovered  Calcutta,  stormed  and  sacked  Hugli.  The 
Nabob,  already  disposed  to  make  some  concessions  to  the 
English,  was  confirmed  in  his  pacific  disposition  by  these 
proofs  of  their  power  and  spirit.  He  accordingly  made 
overtures  to  the  chiefs  of  the  invading  armament,  and 
offered  to  restore  the  factory,  and  to  give  compensation 
to  those  whom  he  had  despoiled. 

Clive's  profession  was  war;  and  he  felt  that  there  was 
something  discreditable  in  an  accommodation  with  Sura- 
jah  Dowlah.  But  his  power  was  limited.  A  committee, 
chiefly  composed  of  servants  of  the  Company  who  had  fled 
from  Calcutta,  had  the  principal  direction  of  affairs;  and 
these  persons  were  eager  to  be  restored  to  their  posts  and 
compensated  for  their  losses.  The  government  of  Madras, 
apprised  that  war  had  commenced  in  Europe,  and  appre- 
hensive of  an  attack  from  the  French,  became  impatient 
for  the  return  of  the  armament.  The  promises  of  the 
Nabob  were  large,  the  chances  of  a  contest  doubtful ;  and 
Clive  consented  to  treat,  though  he  expressed  his  regret 


LOED  CLIVE  217 

that  things  should  not  be  concluded  in  so  glorious  a  man- 
ner as  he  could  have  wished. 

With  this  negotiation  commences  a  new  chapter  in  the 
life  of  Clive.  Hitherto  he  had  been  merely  a  soldier, 
carrj-ing  into  effect,  with  eminent  ability  and  valor,  the 
plans  of  others.  Hencefoith  he  is  to  be  chiefly  regarded 
as  a  statesman;  and  his  military  movements  are  to  be 
considered  as  subordinate  to  his  political  designs.  That 
in  his  new  capacity  he  displayed  great  talents,  and  ob- 
tained great  success,  is  unquestionable.  But  it  is  also 
unqestionable,  that  the  transactions  in  which  he  now 
began  to  take  a  part  have  left  a  stain  on  his  moral  char- 
acter. 

We  can  by  no  means  agree  with  Sir  John  Malcolm, 
who  is  obstinately  resolved  to  see  nothing  but  honor  and 
integrity  in  the  conduct  of  his  hero.  But  we  can  as 
little  agree  with  Mr.  Mill,  who  has  gone  so  far  as  to  say 
that  Clive  was  a  man  "to  whom  deception,  when  it  suited 
his  purpose,  never  cost  a  pang."  Clive  seems  to  us  to 
have  been  constitutionally  the  very  opposite  of  a  knave, 
bold  even  to  temerity,  sincere  even  to  indiscretion,  hearty 
in  friendship,  open  in  enmity.  Neither  in  his  private  life, 
nor  in  those  parts  of  his  public  life  in  which  he  had  to 
do  with  his  countrymen,  do  we  find  any  signs  of  a 
propensity  to  cunning.  On  the  contrary,  in  all  the  dis- 
putes in  which  he  was  engaged  as  an  Englishman  against 
Englishmen,  from  his  bo-xiiig-iiiMtches  at  school  to  those 
stormy  altfrcations  at  the  India  House  and  in  Parliament 
amidst  which  his  later  years  were  passed,  his  very  faults 
were  thosr-  of  a  high  and  magnanimous  spirit.  Tbn  truth 
seems  to  have  been  that  he  considered  Oriental  politics  as 
a  game  in  which  nothing  was  unfair.  Jh^  kiuw  tliat  the 
standard  of  morality  among  the  natives  of  India  (litFcrcd 
widely  from  tliat  established  in  England.  He  knew  that 
he  had  to  deal  with  men  destitute  of  what  in  Europe  is 
called  honor,  with  men  wlio  would  give  any  promise  with- 
out hesitation,  an<l  brr'ak  any  prfimise  without  shame, 
with  men  who  woubl  unscrupulously  employ  corruption, 
perjury,  forgery,  to  comf)ass  their  ends.  If  is  letters  show 
that  the  great  difference  between  Asiatic  and  European 
morality  was  constantly  in  his  thf)ugbts.  lie  seems  to 
have  imagined,  most  erroneously  in  our  oi)inion,  that  ho 


218  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

could  effect  nothing  against  such  adversaries,  if  he  was 
content  to  be  bound  by  ties  from  which  they  were  free, 
if  he  went  on  telling  truth,  and  hearing  none,  if  he  ful- 
filled, to  his  own  hurt,  all  his  engagements  with  confed- 
erates who  never  kept  an  engagement  that  was  not  to 
their  advantage.  Accordingly  this  man,  in  the  other  parts 
of  his  life  an  honorable  English  gentleman  and  a  soldier, 
was  no  sooner  matched  against  an  Indian  intriguer,  than 
he  became  himself  an  Indian  intriguer,  and  descended, 
without  scruple,  to  falsehood,  to  hypocritical  caresses,  to 
the  substitution  of  documents,  and  to  the  counterfeiting 
of  hands. 

The  negotiations  between  the  English  and  the  Nabob 
were  carried  on  chiefly  by  two  agents,  Mr.  Watts,  a  servant 
of  the  Company,  and  a  Bengalee  of  the  name  of  Omi- 
chund.  This  Omichimd  had  been  one  of  the  wealthiest 
native  merchants  resident  at  Calcutta  and  had  sustained 
great  losses  in  consequence  of  the  Nabob's  expedition 
against  that  place.  In  the  course  of  his  commercial  trans- 
actions, he  had  seen  much  of  the  English,  and  was  pecu- 
liarly qualified  to  serve  as  a  medium  of  communication 
between  them  and  a  native  court.  He  possessed  great 
influence  with  his  own  race,  and  had  in  large  measure  the 
Hindu  talents,  quick  observation,  tact,  dexterity,  perse- 
verance, and  the  Hindu  vices,  servility,  greediness,  and 
treachery. 

The  Nabob  behaved  with  all  the  faithlessness  of  an 
Indian  statesman,  and  with  all  the  levity  of  a  boy  whose 
mind  had  been  enfeebled  by  power  and  self-indulgence. 
He  promised,  retracted,  hesitated,  evaded.  At  one  time  he 
advanced  with  his  army  in  a  threatening  manner  toward 
Calcutta;  but  when  he  saw  the  resolute  front  which  the 
English  presented,  he  fell  l)ack  in  alarm,  and  consented  to 
make  peace  with  them  on  their  own  terms.  The  treaty 
was  no  sooner  concluded  than  he  formed  new  designs 
against  them.  He  intrigued  with  the  French  authorities 
at  Chandernagore.  He  invited  Bussy  to  march  from  the 
Deccan  to  the  Hugli,  and  to  drive  the  English  out  of 
Bengal.  All  this  was  well  known  to  Clive  and  Watson. 
They  determined  accordingly  to  strike  a  decisive  blow, 
and  to  attack  Chandernagore,  before  the  force  there  could 
be  strengthened  by  new  arrivals,  either  from  the  south 


LOED  CLIVE  219 

of  India  or  from  Europe.  Watson  directed  the  expedition 
by  water,  Clive  by  land.  The  success  of  the  combined 
movements  was  rapid  and  complete.  The  fort,  the  gar- 
rison, the  artillery,  the  military  stores,  all  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  English.  Near  five  hundred  European  troops 
were  among  the  prisoners. 

The  Nabob  had  feared  and  hated  the  English,  even 
while  he  was  still  able  to  oppose  to  them  their  French 
rivals.  The  French  were  now  vanquished;  and  he  began 
to  regard  the  English  with  still  greater  fear  and  still 
greater  hatred.  His  weak  and  unprincipled  mind  oscil- 
lated between  servility  and  insolence.  One  day  he  sent  a 
large  sum  to  Calcutta,  as  part  of  the  compensation  due  for 
the  wrongs  which  he  had  committed.  The  next  day  he  sent 
a  present  of  jewels  to  Bussy,  exhorting  that  distinguished 
officer  to  hasten  to  protect  Bengal  "against  Clive,  the 
daring  in  war,  on  whom,"  says  his  Highness,  "may  all 
bad  fortune  attend."  He  ordered  his  army  to  march 
against  the  English.  He  countermanded  his  orders.  He 
tore  Clive's  letters.  He  then  sent  answers  in  the  most 
florid  language  of  compliment.  He  ordered  Watts  out  of 
his  presence,  and  threatened  to  impale  him.  He  again 
sent  for  Watts,  and  begged  i)ardon  for  the  insult.  In  the 
mean  time,  his  wretched  maladministration,  his  folly,  his 
dissolute  manners,  and  his  love  of  the  lowest  company,  had 
disgusted  all  classes  of  his  subjects,  soldiers,  traders,  civil 
functionaries,  the  proud  and  ostentatious  Mohammedans, 
the  timid,  supple,  and  parsimonious  Hindus.  A  formi- 
dal)le  confederacy  was  formed  against  him,  in  which  were 
included  Koydullul),  the  minister  of  finance,  Meer  Jaffier, 
the  principal  commander  of  the  troops,  and  Jugget  Reit, 
the  richest  banker  in  India.  The  plot  was  confided  to  the 
Knglish  agents,  and  a  communication  was  opened  between 
the  malcontents  at  Murshidabad  and  the  committee  of 
Calcutta. 

In  the  committee  there  was  much  hesitation;  but  Clive's 
voice  was  given  in  favor  of  the  conspirators,  and  his 
vigor  and  firmness  bore  down  all  opposition.  It  was  de- 
termined that  the  Knglish  slioiild  lend  their  i)owerful  as- 
sistance to  depose  Surajah  iJowlah.  and  to  place  Meer 
Jaffier  on  the  throne  of  Bengal.  In  return,  Meer  Jaffier 
promised   ample  compensation   to   the  Company   and    its 


220  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

sen^ants,  and  a  liberal  donation  to  the  army,  the  navy,  and 
the  committee.  The  odious  vices  of  Surajah  Dowlah,  the 
"wrongs  which  the  English  had  suffered  at  his  hands,  the 
dangers  to  which  our  trade  must  have  been  exposed  had 
he  continued  to  reign,  appear  to  us  fully  to  justify  the 
resolution  of  deposing  him.  But  nothing  can  justify  the 
dissimulation  which  Clivc  stooped  to  practise.  He  wrote 
to  Surajah  Dowlah  in  terms  so  affectionate  that  they  for 
a  time  lulled  that  weak  prince  into  perfect  security.  The 
same  courier  who  carried  this  ''soothing  letter,"  as  Clive 
calls  it,  to  the  Nabob,  carried  to  Mr.  Watts  a  letter  in  the 
following  terms:  "Tell  ~MeeT  Jaffier  to  fear  nothing.  1 
will  join  him  with  five  thousand  men  who  never  turned 
their  backs.  Assure  him  I  will  march  night  and  day  to 
his  assistance,  and  stand  by  him  as  long  as  I  have  a 
man  left." 

It  was  impossible  that  a  plot  which  had  so  many  rami- 
fications should  long  remain  entirely  concealed.  Enough 
reached  the  ears  of  the  Nabob  to  arouse  his  suspicions. 
But  he  was  soon  quieted  by  the  fictions  and  artifices  which 
the  inventive  genius  of  Omichund  produced  with  miracu- 
lous readiness.  All  was  going  well ;  the  plot  was  nearly 
ripe;  when  Olive  learned  that  Omichund  was  likely  to 
play  false.  The  artful  Bengalee  had  been  promised  a 
liberal  compensation  for  all  that  he  had  lost  at  Calcutta. 
But  this  would  not  satisfy  him.  His  services  had  been 
great.  He  held  the  thread  of  the  whole  intrigue.  By  one 
word  breathed  in  the  ear  of  Surajah  Dowlah,  he  could 
undo  all  that  he  had  done.  The  lives  of  Watts,  of  Meer 
Jaffier,  of  all  the  conspirators,  were  at  his  mercy;  and  he 
determined  to  take  advantage  of  his  situation  and  to  make 
his  own  terms.  He  demanded  three  hundred  thousand 
pounds  sterling  as  the  price  of  his  secrecy  and  of  his 
assistance.  The  committee,  incensed  by  the  treachery  and 
appalled  by  the  danger,  knew  not  what  course  to  take. 
But  Clive  was  more  than  Omichund's  match  in  Omi- 
chund's  own  arts.  The  man,  he  said,  was  a  villain.  Any 
artifice  which  would  defeat  such  knavery  was  justifiable. 
The  best  course  would  be  to  promise  what  was  asked. 
Omichund  would  soon  be  at  their  mercy;  and  then  they 
might  punish  him  by  withholding  from  him,  not  only  the 
bribe  which  he  now  demanded,  but  also  the  compensation 


LOED  CLIVE  .        221 

which  all  the  other  sufferers  of  Calcutta  were  to  receive. 

His  advice  was  taken.  But  how  was  the  wary  and 
sagacious  Hindu  to  be  deceived?  He  had  demanded  that 
an  article  touching  his  claim  should  be  inserted  in  the 
treaty  between  Meer  Jaffier  and  the  English,  and  he 
■would  not  be  satisfied  unless  he  saw  it  with  his  own  eyes. 
Clive  had  an  expedient  ready.  Two  treaties  were  drawn 
up,  one  on  white  paper,  the  other  on  red,  the  former  real, 
the  latter  fictitious.  In  the  former  Omiehund's  name  was 
not  mentioned;  the  latter,  which  was  to  be  shown  to  him, 
contained  a  stipulation  in  his  favor. 

But  another  difficulty  arose.  Admiral  Watson  had 
'scruples  about  signing  the  red  treaty.  Omiehund's  vigi- 
lance and  acuteness  were  such  that  the  absence  of  so 
important  a  name  would  probably  awaken  his  suspicions. 
But  Clive  was  not  a  man  to  do  any  thing  by  halves.  We 
almost  blush  to  write  it.  He  forged  Admiral  Watson's 
name. 

All  was  now  ready  for  action.  Mr.  Watts  fled  secretly 
from  Moorshedabad.  Clive  put  his  troops  in  motion,  and 
wrote  to  the  Nabob  in  a  tone  very  difi'erent  from  that  of 
his  previous  letters.  He  set  forth  all  the  wrongs  which 
the  British  had  suffered,  ofi"ered  to  submit  the  points  in 
dispute  to  the  arbitration  of  Meer  Jaffier,  and  concluded 
by  announcing  that,  as  the  rains  were  about  to  set  in,  he 
and  his  men  would  do  themselves  the  honor  of  waiting 
on  his  Highness  for  an  i-iiswer. 

Surajah  Dowlah  instantly  assembled  his  whole  force, 
and  marched  to  oiifountcr  the  English.  It  had  been 
agreed  that  Meer  JafHcr  should  separate  himself  froui  the 
Nabob,  and  carry  over  his  division  to  Clive.  But,  as  the 
decisive  moment  approached,  the  fears  of  the  conspirator 
overpowered  liis  iiiiiMtion.  Clive  had  advanced  to  Cos- 
8im})uzar;  the  Nabob  lay  with  a  mighty  power  a  few  mile8 
ofT  at  Plassey;  and  still  Meer  Jaffier  d.-biyed  to  fulfil  his 
engagements,  and  ritnrned  evasive  answers  to  the  earnest 
remonstrances  of  the  lOnglish  general. 

Clive  was  in  a  j)ainfiilly  anxious  situation.  He  could 
place  no  confidence  in  the  sim-erity  or  in  the  courage  of 
his  confederate:  and,  whatever  confidence  lie  might  place 
in  his  own  military  talents,  and  in  the  valor  and  discipline 
of  his  troop.s,  it  was  no  light  thing  to  engage  an   army 


222  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

twenty  times  as  numerous  as  his  own.  Before  him  lay  a 
river  over  which  it  was  easy  to  advance,  but  over  which, 
if  things  went  ill,  not  one  of  his  little  band  would  ever 
return.  On  this  occasion,  for  the  first  and  for  the  last 
time,  his  dauntless  spirit,  during  a  few  hours,  shrank 
from  the  fearful  responsibility  of  making  a  decision.  He 
called  a  council  of  war.  The  majority  pronounced  against 
fighting;  and  Clive  declared  his  concurrence  with  the  ma- 
jority. Long  afterward,  he  said  tliat  he  had  never  called 
but  one  council  of  war,  and  that,  if  he  had  taken  the 
advice  of  that  council,  the  I^ritish  would  never  have  been 
masters  of  Bengal.  But  scarcely  had  the  meeting  broken 
up  when  he  was  himself  again.  He  retired  alone  under 
the  shade  of  some  trees,  and  passed  near  an  hour  there  in 
thought.  He  came  back  determined  to  put  everything  to 
the  hazard,  and  gave  orders  that  all  should  be  in  readiness 
for  passing  the  river  on  the  morrow. 

The  river  was  passed;  and  at  the  close  of  a  toilsome 
day's  march,  the  army,  long  after  sunset,  took  up  its 
quarters  in  a  grove  of  mango-trees  near  Plassey,  within 
a  mile  of  the  enemy.  Clive  was  unable  to  sleep;  he  heard, 
through  the  whole  night,  the  sound  of  drums  and  cymbals 
from  the  vast  camp  of  the  ISJ'abob.  It  is  not  strange  that 
even  his  stout  heart  should  now  and  then  have  sunk,  when 
he  reflected  against  what  odds,  and  for  what  a  prize,  he 
was  in  a  few  hours  to  contend. 

Xor  was  the  rest  of  Surajah  Dowlah  more  peaceful. 
His  mind,  at  once  weak  and  stormy,  was  distracted  by 
wild  and  horriljle  api)rehensions.  Appalled  by  the  great- 
ness and  nearness  of  the  crisis,  distrusting  his  captains, 
dreading  every  one  who  approached  him,  dreading  to  be 
left  alone,  he  sat  gloomily  in  his  tent,  haunted,  a  Greek 
poet  would  have  said,  by  the  furies  of  those  who  had 
cursed  him  with  their  last  breath  in  the  Black  Hole. 

The  day  broke,  the  day  which  was  to  decide  the  fate  of 
India.  At  sunrise  the  army  of  the  Nabob,  pouring 
through  many  openings  from  the  camp,  began  to  move 
toward  the  grove  where  the  English  lay.  Forty  thousand 
infantry,  armed  with  firelocks,  pikes,  swords,  bows  and 
arrows,  covered  the  plain.  They  were  accompanied  by 
fifty  pieces  of  ordnance  of  the  largest  size,  each  tugged  by 
a   long  team  of  white   oxen,   and  each   pushed  on    from 


LORD  CLIVE  223 

behind  by  an  elephant.  Some  smaller  guns,  under  the 
direction  of  a  few  French  auxiliaries,  were  perhaps  more 
formidable.  The  cavalry  were  fifteen  thousand,  drawn, 
not  from  the  effeminate  population  of  Bengal,  but  from 
the  bolder  race  which  inhabits  the  northern  provinces ;  and 
the  practised  eye  of  Clive  could  perceive  that  both  the 
men  and  the  horses  were  more  powerful  than  those  of  the 
Carnatic.  The  force  which  he  had  to  oppose  to  this  great 
multitude  consisted  of  only  three  thousand  men.  But  of 
these  nearly  a  thousand  were  English ;  and  all  were  led 
by  English  officers,  and  trained  in  the  English  discipline. 
Conspicuous  in  the  ranks  of  the  little  army  were  the  nu'U 
'of  the  Thirty-Xinth  Regiment,  which  still  bears  on  its 
colors,  amidst  many  honorable  additions  won  under  Wel- 
lington in  Spain  and  Gascony,  the  name  of  Plassey,  and 
the  proud  motto,  Primus  in  Indis. 

The  battle  commenced  with  a  cannonade  in  which  the 
artillery  of  the  Nabob  did  scarcely  any  execution,  while 
the  few  field-pieces  of  the  English  produced  great  effect. 
Several  of  the  most  distinguished  officers  in  Surajah 
Dowlah's  service  fell.  Disorder  began  to  spread  through 
his  ranks.  Ilis  own  terror  increased  every  moment.  One 
of  the  conspirators  urged  on  him  the  expediency  of  re- 
treating. The  insidious  advice,  agreeing  as  it  did  with 
what  his  own  terrors  suggested,  was  readily  received.  He 
ordered  his  army  to  fall  back,  and  this  order  decided  his 
fate.  Clive  snatched  the  moment,  and  ordered  his  troops 
to  advance.  The  confused  and  disj)irited  multitude  gave 
way  before  the  onset  of  disciplined  valor.  No  mob  at- 
tacked by  regular  soldiers  was  ever  more  completely 
routed.  The  little  li.iud  of  Frcnchmfii,  who  alone  ven- 
tured to  confront  the  English,  were  swept  down  the 
stream  of  fugitives.  In  an  hour  the  forces  of  Surajah 
Dowlah  were  dispersed,  never  to  reasseml)l('.  Oidy  five 
hundred  of  the  van(|uishe(l  were  slain.  But  their  camp, 
their  guns,  their  baggage,  innumerable  wagons,  innu- 
iiiiT;ibh'  cattle,  remained  in  the  power  of  the  conquerors. 
With  the  loss  of  twenty-two  soldiers  killed  and  fifty 
wounded,  Clive  had  scattered  an  army  of  nearly  sixty 
thousand  men,  and  sulidiied  au  empire  larger  and  more 
populous  than  f>reat   Britain. 

Meer  Jaffier   had   given   no   acsistance  to   the   English 


224  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

during  the  action.  But  as  soon  as  he  saw  that  the  fate 
of  the  day  was  decided,  he  drew  off  his  division  of  the 
army,  and,  when  the  battle  was  over,  sent  his  congratuhi- 
tions  to  his  ally.  The  next  morning  he  repaired  to  tlie 
English  quarters,  not  a  little  uneasy  as  to  the  reception 
which  awaited  him  there.  He  gave  evident  signs  of  alarm 
when  a  guard  was  drawn  out  to  receive  him  with  the 
honors  due  to  his  rank.  But  his  apprehensions  were 
speedily  removed.  Clive  came  forward  to  meet  him,  em- 
braced him,  saluted  him  as  Nabob  of  the  three  great 
provinces  of  Bengal,  Bahar,  and  Orissa,  listened  gra- 
ciously to  his  apologies,  and  advised  him  to  march  with- 
out delay  to  Murshidabad. 

Surajah  Dowlah  had  fled  from  the  field  of  battle  with 
all  the  speed  with  which  a  fleet  camel  could  carry  him, 
and  arrived  at  Murshidabad  in  a  little  more  than  twenty- 
four  hours.  There  he  called  his  counsilors  round  him. 
The  wisest  advised  him  to  put  himself  into  the  hands  of 
the  English,  from  whom  he  had  nothing  worse  to  fear 
than  deposition  and  confinement.  But  he  attributed  this 
suggestion  to  treachery.  Others  urged  him  to  try  the 
chances  of  war  again.  He  approved  the  advice,  and  is- 
sued orders  accordingly.  But  he  wanted  spirit  to  adhere 
even  during  one  day  to  a  manly  resolution.  He  learned 
that  Mcer  JafEcr  had  arrived;  and  his  terror  became 
insupportable.  Disguised  in  a  mean  dress,  with  a  casket 
of  jewels  in  his  hand,  he  let  himself  down  at  night  from 
a  window  of  his  palace,  and,  accompanied  by  only  two 
attendants,  embarked  on  the  river  for  Patna. 

In  a  few  days  Clive  arrived  at  Murshidabad,  escorted 
by  two  hundred  English  soldiers  and  three  hundred 
sepoys.  For  his  residence  had  been  assigned  a  palace, 
which  was  surrounded  by  a  garden  so  spacious  that  all 
the  troops  who  accompanied  him  could  conveniently  en- 
camp within  it.  The  ceremony  of  the  installation  of  Mcer 
Jaffier  was  instantly  performed.  Clive  led  the  new  Nabob 
to  the  seat  of  honor,  placed  him  on  it,  presented  to  him, 
after  the  immemorial  fashion  of  the  East,  an  offering  of 
gold,  and  then,  turning  to  the  natives  who  filled  the  hall, 
congratulated  thorn  on  the  good  fortune  which  had  freed 
them  from  a  tyrant.  He  was  compelled  on  this  occasion 
to  use  the  services  of  an  interpreter;  for  it  is  remarkable 


LOED  CLIYE  225 

that,  long  as  he  resided  in  India,  intimately  acquainted 
as  he  was  with  Indian  politics  and  with  the  Indian  char- 
acter, and -adored  as  he  was  by  his  Indian  soldiery,  he 
never  learned  to  express  himself  with  facility  in  any 
Indian  language.  He  is  said  indeed  to  have  been  some- 
times under  the  necessity  of  employing,  in  his  intercourse 
with  natives  of  India,  the  smattering  of  Portuguese  which 
ho  had  acquired  when  a  lad  in  Brazil. 

The  new  sovereign  was  now  called  upon  to  fulfil  the 
engagements  which  he  had  entered  with  his  allies.  A  con- 
ference was  held  at  the  house  of  Jugget  Seit,  the  great 
banker,  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments. Omichund  came  tliithor,  fully  believing  himself 
to  stand  high  in  the  favor  of  Clive,  who,  with  dissimula- 
tion surpassing  even  the  dissimulation  of  Bengal,  had  up 
to  that  day  treated  him  with  undiminished  kindness.  The 
white  treaty  was  produced  and  read.  Clive  then  turned 
to  Mr.  Scrafton,  one  of  the  servants  of  the  Company,  and 
said  in  English,  "It  is  now  time  to  undeceive  Omichund." 
''Omichund,"  said  Mr.  Scrafton  in  Ilindustanee,  "the  red 
treaty  is  a  trick.  You  are  to  have  nothing."  Omichund 
fell  back  insensible  into  the  arms  of  his  attendants.  He 
revived;  but  his  mind  was  irreparably  ruined.  Clive,  who, 
though  little  troul)led  by  scruples  of  conscience  in  his 
dealings  with  Indian  politicians,  was  not  inhuman,  seems 
to  have  been  touched.  IFe  saw  Omichund  a  few  days 
later,  spoke  to  him  kindly,  advised  him  to  make  a  pil- 
grimage to  one  of  the  great  temples  of  India,  in  the  hope 
that  change  of  scene  might  restore  his  lualth,  and  was 
even  disposed,  notwithstanding  all  that  had  passed,  again 
to  employ  his  taliiits  in  the  pnltlic  service.  But,  from  the 
moment  of  that  sudden  shock,  the  unhappy  man  sank 
gradually  into  idiocy.  He  who  had  formerly  been  dis- 
tinguished by  the  strength  of  his  understanding  and  the 
.simplicity  of  his  habits,  now  sfiuandered  the  remains  of 
his  fortune  on  childish  trinkets,  and  loved  to  exhibit  him- 
self dressed  in  rieh  garments,  and  bung  with  precious 
stones.  In  this  abject  state  he  languished  a  few  months, 
and  then  died. 

We  should  not  think  it  necessary  to  ofTer  any  remarks 
for  the  purjjose  of  direeting  the  jndLrnient  of  our  readers 
with  respect  to  this  transaction,  had  not  Sir  John   Mai- 


226  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

colm  undertaken  to  defend  it  in  all  its  parts.  He  regrets, 
indeed,  that  it  was  necessary  to  employ  means  so  liable 
to  abuse  as  forgery ;  but  he  will  not  admit  that  any  blame 
attaches  to  those  who  deceived  the  deceiver.  He  thinks 
that  the  English  were  not  bound  to  keep  faith  with  one 
who  kept  no  faith  with  them,  and  that,  if  they  had  ful- 
filled their  engagement  with  the  wily  Bengalee,  so  signal 
an  example  of  successful  treason  would  have  produced  a 
crowd  of  imitators.  Now,  we  will  not  discuss  this  point 
on  any  rigid  principles  of  morality.  Indeed,  it  is  quite 
unnecessary  to  do  so:  for,  looking  at  the  question  as  a 
question  of  expediency  in  the  lowest  sense  of  the  word, 
and  using  no  arguments  but  such  as  Machiavelli  might 
have  employed  in  his  conferences  with  Borgia,  we  are 
convinced  that  Clive  was  altogether  in  the  wrong,  and 
that  ho  committed,  not  merely  a  crime,  but  a  blunder. 
That  honesty  is  the  best  policy  is  a  maxim  which  we 
firmly  believe  to  be  generally  correct,  even  with  respect 
to  the  temporal  interests  of  individuals ;  but,  with  respect 
to  societies,  the  rule  is  subject  to  still  fewer  exceptions, 
and  that,  for  this  reason,  that  the  life  of  societies  is 
longer  than  the  life  of  individuals.  It  is  possible  to  men- 
tion men  who  have  owed  great  worldly  prosperity  to 
breaches  of  private  faith.  But  we  doubt  whether  it  be 
possible  to  mention  a  state  which  has  on  the  whole  been  a 
gainer  by  a  breach  of  public  faith.  The  entire  history 
of  British  India  is  an  illustration  of  the  great  truth  that 
it  is  not  prudent  to  oppose  perfidy  to  perfidy,  and  that 
the  most  efSciont  weapon  with  which  men  can  encounter 
falsehood  is  truth.  During  a  long  course  of  years,  the 
English  rulers  of  India,  surrounded  by  allies  and  enemies 
whom  no  engagement  could  bind,  have  generally  acted 
with  sincerity  and  uprightness;  and  the  event  has  proved 
that  sincerity  and  uprightness  are  wisdom.  English  valor 
and  English  intelligence  have  done  less  to  extend  and  to 
preserve  our  Oriental  empire  than  English  veracity.  All 
that  we  could  have  gained  by  imitating  the  doublings,  the 
evasions,  the  fictions,  the  perjuries  which  have  been  em- 
ployed against  us,  is  as  nothing  when  compared  with 
what  we  have  gained  by  being  the  one  power  in  India 
on  whose  word  reliance  can  be  placed.  No  oath  which 
superstition    can    devise,    no    hostage    however    precious, 


LOKD  CLIYE  227 

inspires  a  hundredth  part  of  the  confidence  which  is  pro- 
duced by  the  "yea,  yea"  and  "nay,  nay"  of  a  British 
envoy.  Xo  fastness,  however  strong  by  art  or  nature, 
gives  to  its  inmates  a  security  like  that  enjoyed  by  the 
chief  who,  passing  through  the  territories  of  powerful 
and  deadly  enemies,  is  armed  with  the  British  guaranty. 
The  mightiest  princes  of  the  East  can  scarcely,  by  the 
oflFer  of  enormous  usury,  draw  forth  any  portion  of  the 
wealth  which  is  concealed  under  the  hearts  of  their  sub- 
jects. The  British  Government  oifers  little  more  than 
four  per  cent. ;  and  avarice  hastens  to  bring  forth  tens  of 
millions  of  rupees  from  its  most  secret  repositories.  A 
hostile  monarch  may  promise  mountains  of  gold  to  our 
sepoys,  on  condition  that  thoy  will  desert  the  standard  of 
the  Company.  The  Company  promises  only  a  moderate 
pension  after  a  long  service.  But  every  sepoy  knows  that 
the  promise  of  the  Company  will  be  kept :  he  knows  that 
if  he  lives  a  hundred  years  his  rice  and  salt  are  as  secure 
as  the  salary  of  the  Governor-General :  and  he  knows  that 
there  is  not  another  state  in  India  which  would  not,  in 
spite  of  the  most  solemn  vows,  leave  him  to  die  of  hunger 
in  a  ditch  as  soon  as  he  had  ceased  to  be  useful.  The 
greatest  advantage  which  a  government  can  possess  is  to 
be  the  one  trustworthy  government  in  the  midst  of  gov- 
ernments which  nobody  can  trust  This  advantage  we 
enjoy  in  Asia.  Had  we  acted  during  the  last  two  genera- 
tions on  the  prineij)]es  which  Sir  .John  ^Malcolm  appears 
to  have  considered  as  sound,  had  we,  as  often  as  we  had 
to  deal  with  peoi)le  like  Oiiiiehund,  retaliated  by  lying, 
and  forging,  and  breaking  faith,  after  their  fashion,  it  is 
our  firm  belief  that  no  courage  or  capacity  could  have 
uphold  our  empire. 

Sir  Jobn  Maleolni  admits  that  Clive's  breach  of  faith 
could  be  justified  only  by  the  strongest  necessity.  As  we 
think  that  breaeli  of  faitb  not  only  unnecessary,  but  most 
inexpedient,  we  need  hardly  say  that  we  altogether  con- 
demn it. 

Omiehund  was  not  the  only  victim  of  the  revolution. 
Surajah  Dowlah  was  taken  a  few  days  after  his  flight, 
and  was  brought  before  Moor  Jaffii-r.  Tliero  he  flung 
himself  on  tbe  ground  in  cf)nv\ilsif)iiM  of  fear,  and  with 
tears  and   loud   cries   implored  the  mercy   which  he   had 


228  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

never  shown.  Mcer  -Tafficr  hesitated ;  hut  his  son  Meeran, 
a  youth  of  seventeen,  wlio  in  feebleness  of  brain  and 
savageness  of  nature  greatly  resembled  the  wretched  cap- 
tive, was  implacable.  Surajah  Dowlah  was  led  into  a 
secret  chamber,  to  which  in  a  short  time  the  ministers  of 
death  were  sent.  In  this  act  the  English  bore  no  part; 
and  Meer  Jaffier  understood  so  much  of  their  feelings 
that  he  thought  it  necessary  to  apologize  to  them  for  hav- 
ing avenged  them  on  their  most  malignant  enemy. 

The  shower  of  wealth  now  fell  copiously  on  the  Com- 
pany and  its  servants.  A  sum  of  eight  hundred  thousand 
pounds  sterling,  in  coined  silver,  was  sent  down  the  river 
from  l\rurshi(labad  to  Fort  William.  The  fleet  which 
conveyed  this  treasure  consisted  of  more  than  a  hundred 
boats,^  and  performed  its  triumphal  voyage  with  flags 
flying  and  music  playing.  Calcutta,  which  a  few  months 
before  had  been  desolate,  was  now  more  prosperous  than 
ever.  Trade  revived;  and  the  signs  of  affluence  appeared 
in  every  English  house.  As  to  Clive,  there  was  no  limit 
to  his  acquisitions  but  his  own  moderation.  The  treasury 
of  Bengal  was  thrown  open  to  him.  There  were  piled 
up,  after  the  usage  of  Indian  princes,  immense  masses  of 
coin,  among  which  might  not  seldom  be  detected  the 
florins  and  byzants  with  which,  before  any  European  ship 
had  turned  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  the  Venetians  pur- 
chased the  stuffs  and  spices  of  the  East.  Clive  walked 
between  heaps  of  gold  and  silver,  crowned  with  rubies 
and  diamonds,  and  was  at  liberty  to  help  himself.  He 
accepted  between  two  and  three  hundred  thousand  pounds. 

The  pecuniary  transactions  between  Meer  Jaffier  and 
Clive  were  sixteen  years  later  condemned  by  the  public 
voice,  and  severely  criticized  in  Parliament.  They  are 
vehemently  defended  by  Sir  John  Malcolm.  The  ac- 
cusers of  the  victorious  general  represented  his  gains  as 
the  wages  of  corruption,  or  as  plunder  extorted  at  the 
point  of  the  sword  from  a  helpless  ally.  The  biographer, 
on  the  other  hand,  considers  these  great  acquisitions  as 
free  gifts,  honorable  alike  to  the  donor  and  to  the  receiver, 
and  compares  them  to  the  rewards  bestowed  by  foreign 
powers  on  Marlborough,  on  Nelson,  and  on  Wellington. 
It  had  always,  he  says,  been  customary  in  the  East  to 
give  and  receive  presents;  and  there  was,  as  yet,  no  Act 


LOKD  CLIVE  229 

of  Parliament  positively  prohibiting  English  function- 
aries in  India  from  profiting  by  this  Asiatic  usage.  This 
reasoning,  we  own,  does  not  quite  satisfy  us.  We  do  not 
suspect  C'live  of  selling  the  interests  of  his  employers  or 
his  country;  but  we  cannot  acquit  him  of  having  done 
what,  if  not  in  itself  evil,  was  yet  of  evil  example.  Noth- 
ing is  more  clear  than  that  a  general  ought  to  be  the 
servant  of  his  own  government,  and  of  no  other.  It  fol- 
lows that  whatever  reward  he  receives  for  his  services 
ought  to  be  given  either  by  his  own  government,  or  with 
the  full  knowledge  and  approbation  of  his  own  govern- 
ment. This  rule  ought  to  be  strictly  maintained  even 
with  respect  to  the  merest  bauble,  with  respect  to  a  cross, 
a  medal,  or  a  yard  of  colored  ribbon.  But  how  can  any 
government  be  well  ser\'ed  if  those  who  command  its 
forces  are  at  liberty,  without  its  permission,  without  its 
privity,  to  accept  princely  fortunes  from  its  allies?  It  is 
idle  to  say  that  there  was  then  no  Act  of  Parliarnent 
prohibiting  the  practise  of  taking  presents  from  Asiatic 
sovereigns.  It  is  not  on  the  Act  which  was  passed  at  a 
later  period  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  any  such  tak- 
ing of  presents,  but  on  grounds  which  were  valid  before 
that  Act  was  passed,  on  grounds  of  common  law  and  com- 
mon sense,  that  we  arraign  the  conduct  of  Clive.  There 
is  no  Act  that  we  know  of  prohibiting  the  Secretary  of 
State  ff)r  Foreign  Affairs  from  being  in  the  pay  of  conti- 
nental powers.  l»iit  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  a  Secretary 
who  should  receive  a  secret  pension  from  France  would 
grossly  violate  his  duty,  and  would  deserve  severe  pun- 
ishment. Sir  John  .\I:iI<-o1mi  coniijares  the  conduct  of 
Clive  with  that  of  the  Dtike  of  Wellington.  Suppose — 
and  we  beg  pardon  for  j)utting  such  a  supjjosition  even  for 
the  sake  of  argument — tbat  the  Duke  of  Wellington  had, 
after  the  campaign  of  181 T..  and  while  he  commanded  the 
army  of  oceupation  in  Fraiu-e,  jirivately  accepted  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds  from  I>ouis  the  Eighteenth  as 
a  mark  of  gratitude  for  the  great  services  which  his  Cilrace 
ha<l  rendered  to  tlie  House  of  Bourbon,  what  woidd  be 
thouglit  of  Hueh  a  transa<'tion '■?  Vet  tlu'  st;itute-bool<  no 
more  forbids  the  taking  of  presents  in  Europe  now  than 
it  forbade  the  taking  of  presents  in  Asia  tlien. 

At  the  same  time,  it,  nni^t  Ix-  admitted  that,  in  Olive's 


230  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

case,  there  were  many  extenuatiiif?  circumstances.  He 
considered  himself  as  the  general,  not  of  the  Crown,  but 
of  the  Company.  The  Company  had,  by  implication  at 
least,  authorized  its  agents  to  enrich  themselves  by  means 
of  the  liberality  of  the  native  princes,  and  by  other  means 
still  more  objectionable.  It  was  hardly  to  be  expected 
that  the  servant  should  entertain  stricter  notions  of  his 
duty  than  were  entertained  by  his  masters.  Though  Clive 
did  not  distinctly  acquaint  his  employers  with  what  had 
taken  place,  and  request  their  sanction,  he  did  not,  on  the 
other  hand,  by  studied  concealment,  show  that  he  was 
conscious  of  having  done  wrong.  On  the  contrary,  he 
avowed  with  the  greatest  openness  that  the  Nabob's 
bounty  had  raised  him  to  affluence.  Lastly,  though  we 
think  that  he  ought  not  in  such  a  way  to  have  taken  any- 
thing, we  must  admit  he  deserves  praise  for  having  taken 
so  little.  He  accepted  twenty  lacs  of  rupees.  It  would 
have  cost  him  only  a  word  to  make  the  twenty  forty.  It 
was  a  very  easy  exercise  of  virtue  to  declaim  in  England 
against  Clive's  rapacity ;  but  not  one  in  a  hundred  of  his 
accusers  would  have  shown  so  much  self-command  in  the 
treasury  of  Murshidabad. 

Meer  -Taffier  could  be  upheld  on  the  throne  only  by  the 
hand  which  had  placed  him  on  it.  He  was  not,  indeed, 
a  mere  boy ;  nor  had  he  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  born 
in  the  purple.  He  was  not  therefore  quite  so  imbecile  or 
quite  so  depraved  as  his  predecessor  had  been.  But  he 
had  none  of  the  talents  or  virtues  which  his  post  re- 
quired; and  his  son  and  heir,  Meeran,  was  another 
Rurajah  Dowlah.  The  recent  revolution  had  unsettled 
the  minds  of  men.  Many  chiefs  were  in  open  insurrec- 
tion against  the  new  Nabob.  The  viceroy  of  the  rich  and 
powerful  province  of  Oude — who,  like  the  other  viceroys  of 
the  Mogul,  was  now  in  truth  an  independent  sovereign — 
menaced  Bengal  with  invasion.  Notliing  in  the  talents 
and  authority  of  Clive  could  support  the  tottering  gov- 
ernment. While  things  were  in  this  state  a  ship  arrived 
with  despatches  which  had  been  written  at  the  India 
House  before  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Plassey  had 
reached  London.  The  Directors  had  determined  to  place 
the  English  settlements  in  Bengal  under  a  government 
constituted  in  the  most   cumbrous   and   absurd  manner; 


LORD  CLIVE  231 

and,  to  make  the  matter  worse,  no  place  in  the  arrange- 
ment was  assigned  to  Olive.  The  persons  who  were  se- 
lected to  form  this  new  government,  greatly  to  their 
honor,  took  on  themselves  the  responsibility  of  disobeying 
these  preposterous  orders,  and  invited  Olive  to  exercise 
the  supreme  authoritJ^  He  consented ;  and  it  soon  ap- 
peared that  the  servants  of  the  Oorapany  had  only  antici- 
pated the  wishes  of  their  employers.  The  Directors,  on 
receiving  news  of  Olive's  brilliant  success  instantly  ap- 
pointed him  governor  of  their  possessions  in  Bengal,  with 
the  highest  marks  of  gratitude  and  esteem.  His  power 
Wiis  now  boundless,  and  far  surjoassed  even  that  which 
l)uplcix  had  attained  in  the  south  of  India.  Meer  JafRer 
regarded  him  with  slavish  awe.  On  one  occasion,  the 
Nabob  spoke  with  severity  to  a  native  chief  of  high  rank, 
whose  followers  had  been  engaged  in  a  brawl  with  some 
of  the  Company's  sepoys.  "Are  you  yet  to  learn,"  he- 
said,  "who  that  Colonel  Olive  is,  and  in  what  station  God 
has  placed  him?"  The  chief,  who,  as  a  famous  jester  and 
an  old  friend  of  Meer  JafRer,  could  venture  to  take  lib- 
erties, answered,  "I  affront  the  Colonel!  I,  who  never  get 
up  in  the  morning  without  making  three  low  bows  to  his 
jackass!"  This  was  liardly  an  exaggeration.  Europeans 
and  natives  were  alike  at  Olive's  feet.  The  English  re- 
garded him  as  the  only  man  who  could  force  Meer  Jaffier 
to  keep  his  engagements  with  tbciii.  Meer  TafRor  regarded 
him  as  the  oidy  man  wlio  could  protect  the  new  dynasty 
against  turbulent  subjects  and  encroaching  neighbors. 

It  is  but  justice  to  say  that  Olive  used  bis  ])owcr  ably 
and  vigorously  for  the  advantage  of  his  country.  He  sent 
forth  an  expedition  against  the  tract  lying  to  the  north 
of  the  Oiirnatic  In  tliis  tract  the  Erciicb  still  bad  the 
ascendency;  and  it  was  important  to  dislodge  thcni.  The 
conduct  of  the  enterprise  was  intrusted  to  an  officer  of 
thf  name  of  Fordc,  who  was  then  little  known,  but  in 
whom  the  keen  eye  of  the  (Jovernor  had  detected  military 
talents  of  a  higli  order.  The  success  of  the  expedition 
was  rapid  and  splendid. 

While  a  considerable  part  of  the  army  of  Heiigal  was 
thus  engaged  at  a  distance,  a  new  and  formidable  danger 
menaced  tbe  western  frontier.  Tlie  (Ireiit  iMognl  wiis  a 
prisoner  at  Delhi  in  the  hands  of  a  subject.     His  eldest 


232  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

son,  named  Shah  Alum,  destined  to  be,  during  many 
years,  the  sport  of  adverse  fortune,  and  to  be  a  tool  in 
the  hands,  first  of  the  JVIahrattas,  and  then  of  the  English, 
had  fled  from  the  palace  of  his  father.  His  birth  was  still 
revered  in  India.  Some  powerful  princes,  the  Nabob  of 
Oude  in  particular,  were  inclined  to  favor  him.  Shah 
Alum  found  it  easy  to  draw  to  his  standard  great  num- 
bers of  the  military  adventurers  with  whom  every  part 
of  the  country  swarmed.  An  army  of  forty  thousand  men, 
of  various  races  and  religions,  Mahrattas,  Rohillas,  Jauts, 
and  Afghans,  was  speedily  assembled  round  him;  and  he 
formed  the  design  of  overthrowing  the  upstart  whom  the 
English  had  elevated  to  a  throne,  and  of  establishing  his 
own  authority  throughout  Bengal,  Orissa,  and  Bahar. 

Meer  Jafiier's  terror  was  extreme;  and  the  only  expedi- 
ent which  occurred  to  him  was  to  purchase,  by  the  pay- 
ment of  a  large  sum  of  money,  an  accommodation  with 
Shah  Alum.  This  expedient  had  been  repeatedly  em- 
ployed by  those  who,  before  him,  had  ruled  the  rich  and 
unwarlike  provinces  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ganges.  But 
Clive  treated  the  suggestion  with  a  scorn  worthy  of  his 
strong  sense  of  dauntless  courage.  "If  you  do  this,"  he 
wrote,  "you  will  have  the  ISTabob  of  Oude,  the  Mahrattas, 
and  many  more,  come  from  all  parts  of  the  confines  of 
your  country,  who  will  bully  you  out  of  money  till  you 
have  none  left  in  your  treasury.  I  beg  your  excellency 
will  rely  on  the  fidelity  of  the  English,  and  of  those 
troops  which  are  attached  to  you."  He  wrote  in  a  similar 
strain  to  the  governor  of  Patna,  a  brave  native  soldier 
whom  he  highly  esteemed.  "Come  to  no  terms;  defend 
your  city  to  the  last.  Rest  assured  that  the  English  are 
stanch  and  firm  friends,  and  that  they  never  desert  a 
cause  in  which  they  have  once  taken  a  part." 

He  kept  his  word.  Shah  Alum  had  invested  Patna, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  proceeding  to  storm  when  he 
learned  that  the  Colonel  was  advancing  by  forced 
marches.  The  whole  army  which  was  approaching  con- 
sisted of  only  four  hundred  and  fifty  Europeans,  and  two 
thousand  five  hundred  sepoys.  But  Clive  and  his  Eng- 
lishmen were  now  objects  of  dread  over  all  the  East. 
As  soon  as  his  advanced  guard  appeared,  the  besiegers  fled 
before  him.     A  few  French  adventurers  who  were  about 


LORD  CLIVE  233 

the  person  of  the  prince  advised  him  to  try  the  chance  of 
battle;  but  in  vain.  In  a  few  days  this  great  army,  which 
had  been  regarded  with  so  much  uneasiness  by  the  Court 
of  Murshidabad,  melted  away  before  the  mere  terror  of 
the  British  name. 

The  conqueror  returned  in  triumph  to  Fort  William. 
The  joy  of  Meer  Jaffier  was  as  unbounded  as  his  fears 
had  been,  and  led  him  to  bestow  on  his  preserver  a 
princely  token  of  gratitude.  The  quit-rent  which  the 
East  India  Company  were  bound  to  pay  to  the  Nabob 
for  the  extensive  lands  held  by  them  to  the  south  of 
Calcutta  amounted  to  near  thirty  thousand  pounds  ster- 
ling a  year.  The  whole  of  this  splendid  estate,  sufficient 
to  support  with  dignitj'  the  highest  rank  of  the  British 
peerage,  was  now  confenvd  on  Clive  for  life. 

This  present  we  think  Clive  justified  in  accepting.  It 
was  a  present  which,  from  its  very  nature,  could  be  no 
secret.  In  fact,  the  Comitany  itself  was  his  tenant,  and, 
by  its  acquiescence,  signified  its  approbation  of  Meer 
Jaffier's  grant. 

But  th(^  gratitude  of  Meer  Jaffier  did  not  last  long. 
He  had  for  some  time  felt  that  the  powerful  ally  who 
had  set  him  up  might  ])ull  him  down,  and  had  been 
looking  round  for  suiijjort  against  the  formidable  strength 
by  which  he  had  himself  been  hitherto  supported.  He 
knew  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  among  the  natives 
of  India  any  force  wliicb  would  look  the  ('olon(Ts  little 
army  in  the  face.  Tlie  French  power  in  liengal  was  ex- 
tinct. But  the  fame  of  the  Dutch  had  anciently  been 
great  in  th<i  Kastcrn  seas;  and  it  was  not  yet  distinctly 
known  in  Asia  how  much  the  po\ver  of  Holland  had  de- 
clined in  Europe.  Secret  eoniniiinications  passed  between 
the  court  of  Miirsiii(liil)a(l  and  tlie  Dutcli  factory  at 
Chinsnrah;  and  urgent  letters  were  sent  from  Chinsurah, 
exhorting  the  government  of  Batavia  to  fit  out  an  exjx'di- 
tion  whieli  might  liabince  the  power  of  the  English  in 
Bengal.  The  authorities  of  liatavia,  eager  to  extend  the 
influence  of  their  coiintr>',  and  still  more  eager  to  obtain 
for  tlicMiselves  a  share  of  the  wealth  which  had  recently 
raised  so  many  P^nglish  adventurers  to  oi)nlence,  eiiuijtped 
a  powerful  arrniinieiit.  Seven  liirge  sliips  from  .lava 
arrived   unexiiectediy    in   the   llugli.      The   military   force 


234  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

on  board  amounted  to  fifteen  liundred  men,  of  whort  about 
one-half  were  Europeans.  The  enterprise  was  well  timed. 
Clive  had  sent  such  lar^e  detachments  to  oppose  the 
French  in  the  C'arnatic  that  his  army  was  now  inferior 
in  number  to  that  of  the  Dutch.  lie  knew  that  Meer 
Jaffier  secretly  favored  the  invaders.  Tie  knew  that  he 
took  on  himself  a  serious  responsibility  if  he  attacked 
the  forces  of  a  friendly  power;  that  the  Enf?lish  ministers 
could  not  wish  to  see  a  war  with  Holland  added  to  that 
in  which  they  were  already  engcafjed  with  France;  that 
they  mipht  disavow  his  acts;  that  they  mipjht  punish  him. 
He  had  recently  remitted  a  great  part  of  his  fortune  to 
Europe,  through  the  Dutch  East  India  Company;  and 
he  had  therefore  a  strong  interest  in  avoiding  any  quarrel. 
But  he  was  satisfied,  that  if  he  suffered  the  Batavian 
armament  to  pass  up  the  river  and  to  join  the  garrison 
of  Chinsurah,  Meer  Jaffier  would  throw  himself  into  the 
arms  of  these  new  allies,  and  that  the  English  ascendency 
in  Bengal  would  be  exposed  to  most  serious  danger.  He 
took  his  resolution  with  characteristic  boldness,  and  was 
most  ably  seconded  by  his  officers,  particularly  by  Colonel 
Forde,  to  whom  the  most  important  part  of  the  operations 
was  intrusted.  The  Dutch  attempted  to  force  a  passage. 
The  English  encountered  them  both  by  land  and  water. 
On  both  elements  the  enemy  had  a  great  superiority  of 
force.  On  both  they  were  signally  defeated.  Their  ships 
were  taken.  Their  troops  were  put  to  a  total  rout.  Al- 
most all  the  European  soldiers,  who  constituted  the  main 
strength  of  the  invading  army,  were  killed  or  taken.  The 
conquerors  sat  down  before  Chinsurah ;  and  the  chiefs 
of  that  settlement,  now  thoroughly  humbled,  consented 
to  the  terms  which  Clive  dictated.  They  engaged  to  build 
no  fortifications,  and  to  raise  no  troops  beyond  a  small 
force  necessary  for  the  police  of  their  factories;  and  it 
was  distinctly  provided  that  any  violation  of  these  cove- 
nants should  be  punished  with  instant  expulsion  from 
Bengal. 

Three  months  after  this  great  victory,  Clive  sailed  for 
England.  At  home,  honors  and  rewards  awaited  him,  not 
indeed  equal  to  his  claims  or  to  his  ambition,  but  still 
such  as,  when  his  age,  his  rank  in  the  army,  and  his 
original   place    in   society   are   considered,   must   be   pro- 


LOKD  CLIVE  235 

nounced  rare  and  splendid.  He  was  raised  to  the  Irish 
peerage,  and  encouraged  to  expect  an  English  title. 
George  the  Third,  who  had  just  ascended  the  throne,  re- 
ceived him  with  great  distinction.  The  ministers  paid 
him  marked  attention ;  and  Pitt,  whose  influence  in  the 
House  of  Commons  and  in  the  country  was  unbounded, 
was  eager  to  mark  his  regard  for  one  whose  exploits  had 
contributed  so  much  to  the  luster  of  that  memorable 
period.  The  great  orator  had  already  in  Parliament 
described  Clive  as  a  heaven-born  general,  as  a  man  who, 
bred  to  the  labor  of  the  desk,  had  displayed  a  military 
genius  which  might  excite  the  admiration  of  the  King  of 
Prussia.  There  were  then  no  reporters  in  the  gallery; 
but  these  words,  emphatically  spoken  by  the  first  states- 
man of  the  age,  had  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  had 
been  transmitted  to  Clive  in  Bengal,  and  had  greatly 
delighted  and  flattered  him.  Indeed,  since  the  death  of 
Wolfe,  Clive  was  the  only  English  general  of  whom  his 
countrymen  had  much  reason  to  be  proud.  The  Duke  of 
Cumberland  had  been  generally  unfortunate;  and  his 
single  victor^',  having  been  gained  over  his  countrymen, 
and  used  with  merciless  severity,  had  been  more  fatal 
to  his  popularity  than  his  many  defeats.  Conway,  versed 
in  the  learning  of  his  profession,  and  personally  cou- 
rageous, wanted  vigor  and  capacity.  Granby,  honest, 
generous,  and  as  brave  as  a  lion,  had  neither  science  nor 
genius.  Sackville,  inferior  in  knowledge  and  abilities  to 
none  of  his  contemporaries,  had  incurred,  unjustly  as 
we  believe,  the  iini)utiitioii  most  fatal  to  the  character  of 
a  .soldier.  It  was  under  tlie  command  of  a  foreign  general 
that  the  British  had  triumphed  at  Minden  and  Warburg. 
The  people  tberefore,  as  was  natural,  greeted  with  pride 
and  delight  a  cai)tain  of  tlieir  own,  whose  native  courage 
and  self-taught  skill  had  placed  him  on  a  level  with  the 
great  tacticians  of  Germany. 

The  wealth  of  ('live  was  such  as  enabled  him  to  vie 
with  the  first  grandees  of  P^ngland.  Tbere  remains  proof 
that  he  had  reinitfed  more  tbaii  a  buiidred  and  eighty 
thousand  pounds  tbroiigh  the  Dutch  Kast  India  Company, 
and  more  than  forty  thousand  pounds  through  the  Kng- 
lish  Company.  The  amount  whieli  he  had  sent  home 
through    private   hou.ses    wa.s   also    considerable.      He   had 


236  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

invested  great  sums  in  jewels,  then  a  very  common  mode 
of  remittance  from  India.  His  purchases  of  diamonds, 
at  Madras  alone,  amounted  to  twenty-five  tliousand 
pounds.  Besides  a  great  mass  of  ready  money,  he  had  his 
Indian  estate,  valued  by  himself  at  twenty-seven  thousand 
a  year.  His  whole  annual  income,  in  the  opinion  of  Sir 
John  Malcolm,  who  is  desirous  to  state  it  as  low  as 
possible,  exceeded  forty  thousand  pounds;  and  incomes  of 
forty  thousand  pounds  at  the  time  of  the  accession  of 
George  the  Third  were  at  least  as  rare  as  incomes  of  a 
hundred  thousand  pounds  now.  We  may  safely  affirm 
that  no  Englishman  who  started  with  nothing  has  ever, 
in  any  line  of  life,  created  such  a  fortune  at  the  early 
age  of  thirty-four. 

It  would  be  unjust  not  to  add  that  Clive  made  a  credit- 
able use  of  his  riches.  As  soon  as  the  battle  of  Plassey 
had  laid  the  foundation  of  his  fortune,  he  sent  ten  thou- 
sand pounds  to  his  sisters,  bestowed  as  much  more  on 
other  poor  friends  and  relations,  ordered  his  agent  to  pay 
eight  hundred  a  year  to  his  parents,  and  to  insist  that 
they  should  keep  a  carriage,  and  settled  five  hundred  a 
year  on  his  old  commander  Lawrence,  whose  means  were 
very  slender.  The  whole  sum  which  Clive  expended  in 
this  manner  m;;y  be  calculated  at  fifty  thousand  pounds. 

He  now  set  himself  to  cultivate  parliamentary  interest. 
His  purchases  of  land  seem  to  have  been  made  in  a  great 
measure  with  that  view,  and,  after  the  general  election  of 
1761,  he  found  himself  in  the  House  of  Commons,  at 
the  head  of  a  body  of  dependents  whose  support  must 
have  been  important  to  any  administration.  In  English 
politics,  however,  he  did  not  take  a  prominent  part.  His 
first  attachments,  as  we  have  seen,  were  to  Mr.  Fox ;  at 
a  later  period  he  was  attracted  by  the  genius  and  success 
of  Mr.  Pitt ;  but  finally  he  connected  himself  in  the  closest 
manner  with  George  Grenville.  Early  in  the  session  of 
1764,  when  the  illegal  and  impolitic  persecution  of  that 
worthless  demagogue  Wilkes  had  strongly  excited  the 
public  mind,  the  town  was  amused  by  an  anecdote,  which 
we  have  seen  in  some  unpublished  memoirs  of  Horace 
Walpole.  Old  Mr.  Richard  Clive,  who  since  his  son's 
elevation  had  been  introduced  into  society  for  which  his 
former  habits  had  not  well  fitted  him,  presented  himself 


LORD  CLIVE  237 

at  the  levee.  The  King  asked  him  where  Lord  Clive  was. 
"He  will  be  in  town  very  soon,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  whole  circle,  "and  then 
your  Majesty  will  have  another  vote." 

But  in  truth  all  Clive's  views  were  directed  towards 
the  country  in  which  he  had  so  eminently  distinguished 
himself  as  a  soldier  and  a  statesman;  and  it  was  by  con- 
siderations relating  to  India  that  his  conduct  as  a  public 
man  in  England  was  regulated.  The  power  of  the  Com- 
pany, though  an  anomaly,  is  in  our  time,  we  are  firmly 
persuaded,  a  beneficial  anomaly.  In  the  time  of  Clive,  it 
.jiTOS  not  merely  an  anomaly,  but  a  nuisance.  There  was 
no  Board  of  Control.  The  Directors  were  for  the  most 
part  mere  traders,  ignorant  of  gcMicrnl  politics,  ignorant 
of  the  peculiarities  of  the  empire  which  had  strangely 
become  subject  to  them.  The  Court  of  Proprietors,  wher- 
ever it  chose  to  interfere,  was  able  to  have  its  way.  That 
court  was  more  numerous  as  well  as  more  powerful  than 
at  present;  for  then  every  share  of  five  hundred  pounds 
conferred  a  vote.  The  meetings  were  large,  stormy,  even 
riotous,  the  debates  indecently  virulent.  All  the  turbu- 
lence of  a  Westminster  election,  all  the  trickery  and 
corruption  of  a  Orampound  election,  disgraced  the  pro- 
ceedings of  this  assembly  on  questions  of  the  most  solemn 
importance.  Fictitious  votes  were  manufactured  on  a 
gigantic  scale.  Clive  himself  laid  out  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds  in  the  purchase  of  stock,  which  he  then  divided 
among  nominal  jiroj)rietors  on  whom  he  could  depend,  and 
whom  he  brought  down  in  his  train,  to  every  discussion 
and  every  ballot.  Others  did  the  same,  though  not  to 
quite  so  enormous  an  extent. 

The  interest  taken  by  the  publi*-  of  England  in  Indiiui 
questions  was  then  far  greater  than  at  j)resent,  and  tbe 
reason  is  obvious.  At  present  a  writer  enters  the  service 
young;  he  climbs  slowly;  he  is  fortunate  if.  at  forty-five, 
he  ean  return  to  his  country  with  an  annuity  of  a  thou- 
sand a  year,  and  with  savings  amounting  to  thirty 
thousand  pounds.  A  great  quantity  of  wealth  is  made 
by  English  functionaries  in  India;  l)ut  no  single  func- 
tionary makes  a  very  large  fortune,  and  what  is  made  ia 
slowly,  hardly,  and  honestly  earnr-d.  Only  four  or  five 
high    politiejil    offices    lire    reservcrl    for   public    men    from 


238  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

En<rlaiid.  The  residencies,  the  secretaryships,  the  seats 
in  the  boards  of  revenue  and  in  the  Sudder  courts,  are 
filled  by  men  who  have  given  the  best  years  of  life  to  the 
service  of  the  Company;  nor  can  any  talents  however 
splendid  or  any  connections  however  powerful  obtain 
those  lucrative  posts  for  any  person  who  has  not  entered 
by  the  regular  door,  and  mounted  by  the  regular  grada- 
tions. Seventy  years  ago,  less  money  was  brought  home 
from  the  East  than  in  our  time.  But  it  was  divided 
among  a  very  much  smaller  number  of  persons,  and  im- 
mense sums  were  often  accumulated  in  a  few  months. 
Any  Englishman,  whatever  his  age  might  be,  might  hope 
to  be  one  of  the  lucky  emigrants.  If  he  made  a  good 
speech  in  Leadcnhall  Street,  or  published  a  clever  pam- 
phlet in  defense  of  the  chairman,  he  might  be  sent  out 
in  the  Company's  service,  and  might  return  in  three  or 
four  years  as  rich  as  Pigot  or  as  Clive.  Thus  the  India 
House  was  a  lottery  office,  which  invited  everybody  to 
take  a  chance,  and  held  out  ducal  fortunes  as  the  prizes 
destined  for  the  lucky  few.  As  soon  as  it  was  known 
that  there  was  a  part  of  the  world  where  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  had  one  morning  received  as  a  present  an  estate 
as  large  as  that  of  the  Earl  of  Bath  or  the  Marquis  of 
Rockingham,  and  where  it  seemed  that  such  a  trifle  as 
ten  or  twenty  thousand  pounds  was  to  be  had  by  any 
British  functionary  for  the  asking,  society  began  to  ex- 
hibit all  the  symptoms  of  the  South  Sea  year,  a  feverish 
excitement,  an  ungovernable  impatience  to  be  rich,  a  con- 
tempt for  slow,  sure,  and  moderate  gains. 

At  the  head  of  the  preponderating  party  in  the  India 
House  had  long  stood  a  powerful,  able,  and  ambitious 
director  of  the  name  of  Sulivan.  He  had  conceived  a 
strong  jealousy  of  Clive,  and  remembered  with  bitterness 
the  audacity  with  which  the  late  governor  of  Bengal  had 
repeatedly  set  at  naught  the  authority  of  the  distant 
Directors  of  the  Company.  An  apparent  reconciliation 
took  place  after  Clive's  arrival;  but  enmity  remained 
deeply  rooted  in  the  hearts  of  both.  The  whole  body  of 
Directors  was  then  chosen  annually.  At  the  election  of 
1763,  Clive  attempted  to  break  down  the  power  of  the 
dominant  faction.  The  contest  was  carried  on  with  a 
violence  which  he  describes  as  tremendous.     Sulivan  was 


LORD  CLIVE  239 

victorious,  and  hastened  to  take  his  revenge.  The  grant 
of  rent  which  Clive  had  received  from  Meer  Jaffier  was, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  best  English  hiwyers,  valid.  It  had 
been  made  by  exactly  the  same  authority  from  which  the 
Company  had  received  their  chief  possessions  in  Bengal, 
and  the  Company  had  long  acquiesced  in  it.  The  Direc- 
tors, however,  most  unjustly  determined  to  confiscate  it, 
and  Clive  was  forced  to  file  a  bill  in  Chancery  against 
them. 

But  a  great  and  sudden  turn  in  affairs  was  at  hand. 
Every  ship  from  Bengal  had  for  some  time  brought  alarm- 
ing tidings.  The  internal  misgovernmcnt  of  the  province 
had  reached  such  a  point  that  it  could  go  no  further. 
What,  indeed,  was  to  be  expected  from  a  body  of  public 
servants  exposed  to  temptation  such  that,  as  Clive  once 
said,  flesh  and  blood  could  not  bear  it,  armed  with  irre- 
sistible power,  and  responsible  only  to  the  corrupt,  turbu- 
lent, distracted,  ill-informed  Company,  situated  at  such 
a  distance  that  the  average  interval  between  the  sending 
of  a  despatch  and  the  receipt  of  an  answer  was  above  a 
year  and  half?  Accordingly,  during  the  five  years  which 
followed  the  departure  of  Clive  from  Bengal,  the  misgov- 
ernment  of  the  English  was  carried  to  a  point  such  as 
seems  hardly  compatible  with  the  very  existence  of  society. 
The  Roman  proconsul,  who  in  a  year  or  two  squeezed 
out  of  a  province  the  means  of  rearing  marble  palaces 
and  baths  on  the  shores  of  Campania,  of  drinking  from 
amber,  of  feasting  on  singing  birds,  of  exhibiting  armies 
of  gladiators  and  flocks  of  camelopards,  the  Spanish 
viceroy,  who,  leaving  beliind  him  the  curses  of  Mexico 
or  Lima,  entered  ^ladrid  with  a  long  train  of  gilded 
coaches,  and  of  sumitter-horses  trajjped  and  shod  with 
silver,  were  now  out<lnne.  (Jruelty,  indeed,  jjntperly  so 
called,  was  not  among  tlie  vices  of  the  servants  of  the 
Company.  But  cruelty  itself  coidd  liardly  liave  produced 
greater  evils  than  sprang  from  tbeir  unprinci])h'd  eager- 
ness to  be  rich.  They  polled  dnwn  their  creature,  Meer 
Jaffier.  Tliey  set  u))  in  his  place  another  l^abob,  named 
Meer  Cossim.  P>ut  Meer  (V)ssim  had  talents  and  a  will; 
and,  tbougli  sufficiently  inclined  to  oppress  hia  subjects 
himself,  he  could  not  bear  to  see  them  ground  to  the  dust 
by  oppressions  whicli   yielded   him    no  profit,  nay,   which 


240  IIISTOKIOAL  ESSAYS 

destroyed  his  rovonuc  in  its  very  source.  The  English 
accordingly  pulled  down  Meer  Cossim,  and  set  up  Meer 
JafRer  again ;  and  Meer  Cossim,  after  revenging  himself 
by  a  massacre  surpassing  in  atrocity  that  of  the  Black 
Hole,  fled  to  the  dominions  of  the  Nabob  of  Oude.  At 
every  one  of  those  revolutions,  the  new  prince  divided 
among  his  foreign  masters  whatever  could  be  scraped  to- 
gether from  the  treasury  of  his  fallen  predecessor.  The 
immense  population  of  his  dominions  was  given  up  as  a 
prey  to  those  who  had  made  him  a  sovereign,  and  who 
coidd  unmake  him.  The  servants  of  the  Company  ob- 
tained, not  for  their  employers,  but  for  themselves,  a 
monopoly  of  almost  the  whole  internal  trade.  They 
forced  the  natives  to  buy  dear  and  to  sell  cheap.  They 
insulted  with  impunity  the  tribunals,  the  police,  and  the 
fiscal  authorities  of  the  country.  They  covered  with  their 
protection  a  set  of  native  dependents  who  ranged  througli 
the  provinces,  spreading  desolation  and  terror  wherever 
they  appeared.  Every  servant  of  a  British  factor  was 
armed  with  all  the  power  of  his  master;  and  his  master 
was  armed  with  all  the  power  of  the  Company.  Enor- 
mous fortunes  were  thus  rapidly  accumulated  at  Calcutta, 
while  thirty  millions  of  human  beings  were  reduced  to 
the  extremity  of  wretchedness.  They  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  live  under  tyranny,  but  never  under  tyranny 
like  this.  They  found  the  little  finger  of  the  Company 
thicker  than  the  loins  of  Surajah  Dowlah.  Under  their 
old  masters  they  had  at  least  one  resource:  when  the  evil 
became  insupportable,  the  people  rose  and  pulled  down 
the  government.  But  the  English  government  was  not 
to  be  so  shaken  off.  That  government,  oppressive  as  the 
most  oppressive  form  of  barbarian  despotism,  was  strong 
with  all  the  strength  of  civilization.  It  resembled  the 
government  of  evil  genii,  rather  than  the  government  of 
human  tyrants.  Even  despair  could  not  inspire  the  soft 
Bengalee  with  courage  to  confront  men  of  English  breed, 
the  hereditary  nobility  of  mankind,  whose  skill  and  valor 
had  so  often  triumphed  in  spite  of  tenfold  odds.  The 
unhappy  race  never  attempted  resistance.  Sometimes 
they  suV)mitted  in  patient  misery.  Sometimes  they  fled 
from  the  white  man,  as  their  fathers  had  been  used  to 
fly  from  the  Mahratta;  and  the  palanquin  of  the  English 


LORD  CLIVE  241 

traveler  was  often  carried  through  silent  villages  and 
towns,  which  the  report  of  his  approach  had  made 
desolate. 

The  foreign  lords  of  Bengal  were  naturally  objects  of 
hatred  to  all  the  neighboring  powers;  and  to  all  the 
haughty  race  presented  a  dauntless  front.  Their  armies, 
everywhere  outnumbered,  were  everywhere  victorious. 
A  succession  of  commanders,  formed  in  the  school  of 
Clive,  still  maintained  the  fame  of  their  country.  "It 
must  be  acknowledged,"  says  the  Mussulman  historian  of 
those  times,  "that  this  nation's  presence  of  mind,  firmness 
of  temper,  and  undaunted  bravery  are  past  all  question. 
They  join  the  most  resolute,  courage  to  the  most  cautious 
prudence;  nor  have  they  their  equals  in  the  art  of  ranging 
themselves  in  battle  array  and  fighting  in  order.  If  to  so 
many  military  qualifications  they  knew  how  to  join  the 
arts  of  government,  if  thej'  exerted  as  much  ingenuity 
and  solicitude  in  relieving  the  people  of  God,  as  they  do 
in  whatever  concerns  their  military  affairs,  no  nation  in 
the  world  would  be  preferable  to  them,  or  worthier  of 
command.  But  the  people  under  their  dominion  groan 
everywhere,  and  are  reduced  to  poverty  and  distress.  Oh 
God!  come  to  the  assistance  of  thine  afflicted  servants, 
and  deliver  them  from  the  oppressions  which  they  suffer." 

It  was  impossible,  however,  that  even  the  military 
establishment  should  long  continue  exempt  from  the  vices 
which  pervaded  every  other  part  of  the  governnu'ut. 
Rapacitj',  luxury,  and  the  spirit  of  insubordination  spread 
from  the  civil  service  to  the  officers  of  the  army,  and 
from  the  officers  to  the  soldiers.  Tbe  evil  continued  to 
grow  till  every  mess-room  became  the  seat  of  eousi)iracy 
and  cabal,  and  till  the  sepoys  could  be  kept  in  order  only 
by  wholesale  executions. 

At  length  tbe  state  of  things  in  Jiengal  began  to  excite 
iineasiness  at  home.  A  succession  of  revolutions;  a  dis- 
organized julniinistration ;  the  natives  pilhged,  yet  the 
Company  not  enriched;  every  HiM-t  bringing  back  fortu- 
nate adventurers  who  were  able  to"  purchase  manors  and 
to  l»nilfl  stately  dwellings,  yet  bringing  back  also  alarm- 
ing accounts  of  thr-  financial  prospects  of  tbe  governnuMit; 
war  on  tbe  frontiers;  disaffection  in  the  army;  tbe 
national  character  disgraced  by  excesses  resembling  those 


242  IIISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

of  Verres  and  Pizarro;  such  was  the  spectacle  which  dis- 
mayed those  wlio  were  conversant  with  Indian  aii'airs. 
The  general  cry  was  that  Clive,  and  Olive  alone,  could 
save  the  empire  which  he  had  founded. 

This  feeling  manifested  itself  in  the  strongest  manner 
at  a  very  full  General  Court  of  Proprietors.  Men  of  all 
parties,  forgetting  their  feuds  and  trembling  for  their 
dividends,  exclaimed  that  Clive  was  the  man  whom  the 
crisis  required,  that  the  oppressive  proceedings  which 
had  been  adopted  respecting  his  estate  ought  to  be 
dropped,  and  that  he  ought  to  be  entreated  to  return  to 
India. 

Clive  rose.  As  to  his  estate,  he  said,  he  would  make 
such  propositions  to  the  Directors  as  would,  he  trusted, 
lead  to  an  amicable  settlement.  But  there  was  a  still 
greater  difficulty.  It  was  proper  to  tell  them  that  he  never 
would  undertake  the  government  of  Bengal  while  his 
enemy  Sulivan  was  chairman  of  the  Company.  The 
tumult  was  violent.  Sulivan  could  scarcely  obtain  a  hear- 
ing. An  overwhelming  majority  of  the  assembly  was  on 
Clive's  side.  Sulivan  wished  to  try  the  result  of  a  ballot. 
But,  according  to  the  by-laws  of  the  Company,  there  can 
be  no  ballot  except  on  a  requisition  signed  by  nine  pro- 
prietors; and,  though  hundreds  were  present,  nine  persons 
could  not  be  found  to  set  their  hands  to  such  a  requisi- 
tion. 

Clive  was  in  consequence  nominated  Governor  and 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  British  possessions  in  Bengal. 
But  he  adhered  to  his  declaration,  and  refused  to  enter 
on  his  office  till  the  event  of  the  next  election  of  Directors 
should  be  known.  The  contest  was  obstinate;  but  Clive 
triumphed.  Sulivan,  lately  absolute  master  of  the  India 
House,  was  within  a  vote  of  losing  his  own  seat;  and 
both  the  chairman  and  the  deputy-chaii'man  were  friends 
of  the  new  governor. 

Such  were  the  circumstances  under  which  Lord  Clive 
sailed  for  the  third  and  last  time  to  India.  In  May,  1765, 
he  reached  Calcutta ;  and  he  found  the  whole  machine  of 
government  even  more  fearfully  disorganized  than  he  had 
anticipated.  Meer  Jaffier,  who  had  some  time  before  lost 
his  eldest  son  Meeran,  had  died  while  Clive  was  on  his 
voyage  out.     The  English  functionaries  at  Calcutta  had 


LORD  CLIVE  243 

already  received  from  home  strict  orders  not  to  accept 
presents  from  the  native  princes.  But,  eager  for  gain, 
and  unaccustomed  to  respect  the  commands  of  their  dis- 
tant, ignorant,  and  negligent  masters,  they  again  set  up 
the  throne  of  Bengal  to  sale.  About  one  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  pounds  sterling  was  distributed  among 
nine  of  the  most  powerful  servants  of  the  Company;  and, 
in  consideration  of  this  bribe,  an  infant  son  of  the 
deceased  Xabob  was  placed  on  the  seat  of  his  father.  The 
news  of  the  ignominious  bargain  met  Clive  on  his  arrival. 
In  a  private  letter  written  immediately  after  his  landing 
i.0  an  intimate  friend,  he  poured  out  his  feelings  in  lan- 
guage which,  proceeding  from  a  man  so  daring,  so  reso- 
lute, and  so  little  given  to  theatrical  display  of  sentiment, 
seems  to  us  singularly  touching.  "Alas!"  he  says,  "how 
is  the  English  name  sunk !  I  could  not  avoid  paying  the 
tribute  of  a  few  tears  to  the  departed  and  lost  fame  of 
the  British  nation — irrecoverably  so,  I  fear.  However, 
I  do  declare,  by  that  great  Being  who  is  the  searcher  of 
all  hearts,  and  to  whom  we  must  be  accountable  if  there 
be  a  hereafter,  that  I  am  come  out  with  a  mind  superior 
to  all  corruption,  and  that  I  am  determined  to  destroy 
these  great  and  growing  evils,  or  perish  in  tlie  attempt." 

The  Council  met,  and  Clive  stated  to  them  his  full 
determination  to  make  a  thorough  reform,  and  to  use  for 
that  purpose  the  whole  of  the  ample  authority,  civil  and 
military,  whieh  had  been  confided  to  him.  Johnstone, 
one  of  the  boldest  and  worst  men  in  the  assembly,  made 
some  show  of  opposition.  Clive  interrupted  him,  and 
haughtily  demanded  whether  he  meant  to  question  the 
jiower  of  the  new  governinr'iit.  Johnstone  was  cowed,  and 
disclaimed  any  such  intention.  All  the  faces  round  the 
hoard  grew  long  and  pale;  and  not  another  syllable  of 
dissent  was  uttr-red. 

Clive  redeemefl  his  pledge.  lie  remained  in  India  about 
n  year  and  a  half;  and  in  that  short  tiine  elTected  one  of 
the  most  extensive,  difficult,  and  salntary  reforms  that 
ever  was  acconiplishi'd  l>y  any  statesman.  This  was  the 
part  of  his  life  on  which  he  afterwards  looked  back  with 
most  pridr-.  lie  bad  it  in  his  jxnver  to  triitje  his  already 
splendid  fortune;  to  connive  at  al)nses  while  pretending 
to   remove   them;   to   conciliate   the  good-will   of   all   the 


244  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

English  in  Bengal,  by  giving  up  to  their  rapacity  a  help- 
less and  timid  raee,  who  knew  not  where  lay  the  island 
which  sent  forth  thoir  oppressors,  and  whose  complaints 
had  little  chance  of  being  heard  across  fifteen  thousand 
miles  of  ocean.  He  knew  that,  if  he  applied  himself  in 
earnest  to  the  work  of  reformation,  he  should  raise  every 
bad  ])assion  in  arms  against  him.  He  knew  how  un- 
scrupulous, how  implacable,  would  be  the  hatred  of  those 
ravenous  adventurers  who,  having  counted  on  accumu- 
lating in  a  few  months  fortunes  sufficient  to  support  peer- 
ages, should  find  all  their  hopes  frustrated.  But  he  had 
chosen  the  good  part;  and  he  called  up  all  the  force  of 
his  mind  for  a  battle  far  harder  than  that  of  Plassey. 
At  first  success  seemed  hopeless;  but  soon  all  obstacles 
began  to  bend  before  that  iron  courage  and  that  vehement 
will.  The  receiving  of  presents  from  the  natives  was 
rigidly  prohibited.  The  private  trade  of  the  servants  of 
the  Company  was  put  down.  The  whole  settlement 
seemed  to  be  set,  as  one  man,  against  these  measures.  But 
the  inexorable  governor  declared  that,  if  he  could  not  find 
support  at  Fort  William,  he  would  procure  it  elsewhere, 
and  sent  for  some  civil  servants  from  Madras  to  assist 
him  in  carrying  on  the  administration.  The  most  factious 
of  his  opponents  he  turned  out  of  their  offices.  The  rest 
submitted  to  what  was  inevitable;  and  in  a  very  short 
time  all  resistance  was  quelled. 

But  Clive  was  far  too  wise  a  man  not  to  see  that  the 
recent  abuses  were  partly  to  be  ascribed  to  a  cause  which 
could  not  fail  to  produce  similar  abuses,  as  soon  as  the 
pressure  of  his  strong  hand  was  withdrawn.  The  Com- 
pany had  followed  a  mistaken  policy  with  respect  to  the 
remuneration  of  its  servants.  The  salaries  were  too  low 
to  afford  even  those  indulgences  which  are  necessary  to 
the  health  and  comfort  of  Europeans  in  a  tropical  climate. 
To  lay  by  a  rupee  from  such  scanty  pay  was  impossible. 
It  would  not  be  supposed  that  men  of  even  average  abili- 
ties would  consent  to  pass  the  best  years  of  life  in  exile, 
under  a  burning  sun,  for  no  other  consideration  than 
these  stinted  wages.  It  had  accordingly  been  understood, 
from  a  very  early  period,  that  the  Company's  agents  were 
at  liberty  to  enrich  themselves  by  their  private  trade. 
This  practice  had  been  seriously   injurious  to  the  com- 


LORD  CLIVE  245 

mercial  interests  of  the  corporation.  That  very  intelli- 
gent observer,  Sir  Thomas  Roe,  in  the  reign  of  James  the 
First,  strongly  urged  the  Directors  to  apply  a  remedy  to 
the  abuse.  "Absolutely  prohibit  the  private  trade,"  said 
he;  "for  your  business  will  be  better  done.  I  know  this 
is  harsh.  Men  profess  they  come  not  for  bare  wages.  But 
you  will  take  away  this  plea  if  you  give  great  wages  to 
their  content;  and  then  you  know  what  you  part  from." 

In  spite  of  this  excellent  advice,  the  Company  adhered 
to  the  old  system,  paid  low  salaries,  and  connived  at  the 
indirect  gains  of  the  agents.  The  pay  of  a  member  of 
Council  was  only  three  hundred  pounds  a  year.  Yet  it 
was  notorious  that  such  a  functioiuiry  could  not  live  in 
India  for  less  than  ten  times  that  sum  and  it  could  not 
be  expected  that  he  would  be  content  to  live  even  hand- 
somely in  India  without  laying  up  something  against  the 
time  of  his  return  to  England.  This  system,  before  the 
conquest  of  Bengal,  might  affect  the  amount  of  the  divi- 
dends payable  to  the  proprietors,  but  could  do  little  harm 
in  any  other  way.  But  the  Comjjany  was  now  a  ruling 
body.  Its  servants  might  still  be  called  factors,  junior 
merchants,  senior  merchants.  But  they  were  in  truth 
proconsuls,  propraetors,  procurators  of  extensive  regions. 
They  had  immense  power.  Their  regular  pay  was  uni- 
versally admitted  to  be  insufficient.  They  were,  by  the. 
ancient  usage  of  the  service,  and  by  the  imiilied  permis- 
sion of  their  employers,  warranted  in  enriching  themselves 
by  indiror't  rtioans;  an*]  this  liad  been  the  origin  of  the 
frightful  opj)rcssion  and  corruption  which  had  desolated 
Bengal.  C'live  saw  clearly  that  it  was  absurd  to  give  men 
power,  and  to  require  them  to  live  in  i)enury.  He  justly 
concluded  that  no  reform  could  be  effectual  which  should 
not  be  coupled  with  a  plan  for  liberally  remunerating  the 
civil  servants  of  the  Company.  The  Directors,  he  kiu'w, 
were  not  disposed  to  sanction  any  increase  of  the  salaries 
out  of  their  own  treasury.  The  only  course  which  re- 
mainefl  open  to  the  governor  was  one  which  exposed  him 
to  nnieh  misrepresentatinn,  but  which  w(!  think  him  fully 
justified  in  adopting.  He  ai)proi)riated  to  the  support  of 
the  service  the  monopr)]y  of  salt,  wliicji  Ims  formed,  down 
to  our  own  time,  a  principal  head  f)f  Indian  revenue;  and 
he  divided  the  proceeds  according  to  a  scale  which  seems 


246  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

to  have  been  not  unreasonably  fixed.  He  was  in  conse- 
quence accused  by  his  enemies,  and  has  been  accused  by 
historians,  of  disobeying  his  instructions,  of  violating  his 
promises,  of  authorizing  that  very  abuse  which  it  was  his 
special  mission  to  destroy,  namely,  the  trade  of  the  Com- 
pany's servants.  But  every  discerning  and  impartial 
judge  will  admit,  that  there  was  really  nothing  in  common 
between  the  system  which  he  set  up  and  that  which  he 
was  sent  to  destroy.  The  monopoly  of  salt  had  been  a 
source  of  revenue  to  the  governments  of  India  before 
Clive  was  born.  It  continued  to  be  so  long  after  his 
death.  The  civil  servants  were  clearly  entitled  to  a  main- 
tenance out  of  the  revenue;  and  all  that  Clive  did  was 
to  charge  a  particular  portion  of  the  revenue  with  their 
maintenance.  He  thus,  while  he  put  an  end  to  the  prac- 
tices by  which  gigantic  fortunes  had  been  rapidly  accu- 
nmlated,  gave  to  every  British  functionary  employed  in 
the  East  the  means  of  slowly,  but  surely,  acquiring  a 
competence.  Yet,  such  is  the  injustice  of  mankind  that 
none  of  those  acts  which  are  the  real  stains  of  his  life 
has  drawn  on  him  so  much  obloquy  as  this  measure,  which 
was  in  truth  a  reform  necessary  to  the  success  of  all  his 
other  reforms. 

He  had  quelled  the  opposition  of  the  civil  service:  that 
of  the  army  was  more  formidable.  Some  of  the  retrench- 
ments which  had  been  ordered  by  the  Directors  aifected 
the  interests  of  the  military  service;  and  a  storm  arose, 
such  as  oven  Ctesar  would  not  Avillingly  have  faced.  It 
was  no  light  thing  to  encounter  the  resistance  of  those 
who  held  the  power  of  the  sword,  in  a  country  governed 
only  by  the  sword.  Two  hundred  English  officers  engaged 
in  a  conspiracy  against  the  government,  and  determined 
to  resign  their  commissions  on  the  same  day,  not  doubt- 
ing that  Clive  would  grant  any  terms  rather  than  see  the 
army,  on  which  alone  the  British  empire  in  the  East 
rested,  left  Avithout  commanders.  They  little  knew  the 
unconquerable  spirit  with  which  they  had  to  deal.  Clive 
had  still  a  few  officers  round  his  person  on  whom  he  could 
rely.  He  sent  to  Fort  St.  George  for  a  fresh  supply.  He 
gave  commissions  even  to  mercantile  agents  who  were 
disposed  to  support  him  at  this  crisis;  and  he  sent  orders 
that  every  officer  who  resigned  should  be  instantly  brought 


LORD  CLIVE  247 

up  to  Calcutta.  The  conspirators  found  that  they  had 
miscalculated.  The  governor  was  inexorable.  The  troops 
were  steady.  The  sepoys,  over  whom  Clive  had  always 
possessed  extraordinary  intluence,  stood  by  him  with  un- 
shaken fidelity.  The  leaders  in  the  plot  were  arrested, 
tried,  and  cashiered.  The  rest,  liumbled  and  dispirited, 
begged  to  be  permitted  to  withdraw  their  resignations, 
^lany  of  them  declared  their  repentance  even  with  tears. 
The  younger  offenders  Clive  treated  with  lenity.  To  tlie 
ringleaders  he  was  inflexibly  severe;  but  his  severity  was 
pure  from  all  taint  of  private  malevolence.  While  he 
sternly  upheld  the  just  authority  of  his  office,  he  passed 
by  personal  insults  and  injuries  with  magnanimous  dis- 
dain. One  of  the  conspirators  was  accused  of  having 
planned  the  assassination  of  the  governor;  but  Clive 
would  not  listen  to  the  charge.  "The  officers,"  he  said, 
"are  Englishmen,  not  assassins." 

While  he  reformed  the  civil  service  and  established  his 
authority  over  the  army,  he  was  equally  successful  in  his 
foreign  policy.  His  landing  on  Indian  ground  was  the 
signal  for  immediate  peace.  The  Nabob  of  Oude,  with  a 
largo  army,  lay  at  tliat  time  on  the  frontier  of  liahar. 
He  had  been  joined  by  many  Afghans  and  Mahrattas,  and 
there  was  no  small  reason  to  expect  a  geucrnl  coalition  of 
all  the  native  powers  against  the  English.  Hut  tho  name 
of  Clive  quelled  in  an  instant  all  opposition.  The  en- 
emy implored  peace  in  the  humblest  language,  and  sub- 
mitted to  such  terms  as  the  new  governor  chose  to  dic- 
tate. 

At  the  same  time,  the  government  of  Bengal  was  placed 
on  a  new  footing.  Tlic  imwcr  of  tlii'  English  in  tliat 
province  had  hitherto  been  altogether  undetincil.  It  was 
unknown  to  the  ancient  constitution  of  the  emijirc,  and 
it  had  been  ascertained  l)y  no  conipiict.  It  resembled 
the  power  which,  in  tlie  last  decrei)itnde  of  the  Western 
Empire,  was  exercised  over  Italy  liy  tlie  great  chiefs  of 
forr-ign  mercenaries,  the  Iviciniers  ami  the  Odoacers,  who 
I)Ut  up  and  pulled  down  at  their  pleasure  n  Buccession  of 
insignificnnt  princes,  dignified  with  tlie  mimes  of  Cirsar 
and  AiigiistiiH.  I'.ut  as  in  Italy,  so  in  India,  the  warlike 
strangers  at  length  found  it  expetlient  to  give  to  a  dom- 
ination which  li.'id  been  established  by  arms  the  sanction 


248  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  law  and  ancient  prescription.  Theodoric  thought  it 
politic  to  obtain  from  the  distant  court  of  Byzantium  a 
commission  appointing  him  ruler  of  Italy;  and  Olive,  in 
the  same  manner,  applied  to  the  Oourt  of  Delhi  for  a 
formal  grant  of  the  powers  of  which  he  already  possessed 
the  reality.  The  Mogul  was  absolutely  helpless;  and, 
though  he  murmured,  had  reason  to  be  well  pleased  that 
the  English  were  disposed  to  give  solid  rupees  which  he 
never  could  have  extorted  from  them,  in  exchange  for  a 
few  Persian  characters  which  cost  him  nothing.  A  bar- 
gain was  speedily  struck;  and  the  titular  sovereign  of 
Hindustan  issued  a  warrant,  empowering  the  Oompany  to 
collect  and  administer  the  revenues  of  Bengal,  Orissa, 
and  Bahar. 

There  was  still  a  Nabob,  who  stood  to  the  British  au- 
thorities in  the  same  relation  in  which  the  last  driveling 
Ohilperics  and  Ohilderics  of  the  Merovingian  line  stood 
to  their  able  and  vigorous  Mayors  of  the  Palace,  to 
Oharles  Martcl  and  to  Pepin.  At  one  time  Olive  had 
almost  made  up  his  mind  to  discard  this  phantom  alto- 
gether; but  he  afterwards  thought  that  it  might  be  con- 
venient still  to  use  the  name  of  the  Nabob,  particularly  in 
dealings  with  other  European  nations.  The  French,  the 
Dutch,  and  the  Danes  would,  he  conceived,  submit  far 
more  readily  to  the  authority  of  the  native  Prince,  whom 
they  had  always  been  accustomed  to  respect,  than  to  that 
of  a  rival  trading  corporation.  This  policy  may,  at  that 
time,  have  been  judicious.  But  the  pretense  was  soon 
found  to  be  too  flimsy  to  impose  on  anybody,  and  it  was 
altogether  laid  aside.  The  heir  of  Meer  Jaffier  still  resides 
at  Murshidabad,  the  ancient  capital  of  his  hou.se,  still 
bears  the  title  of  Nabob,  is  still  accosted  by  the  English 
as  "Your  Highness,"  and  is  still  suffered  to  retain  a 
portion  of  the  regal  state  which  surrounded  his  ancestors. 
A  pension  of  a  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  pounds  a  year 
is  annually  paid  to  him  V)y  the  government.  His  carriage 
is  surrounded  by  guards,  and  preceded  by  attendants  with 
silver  maces.  His  person  and  his  dwelling  are  exempted 
from  the  ordinary  authority  of  the  ministers  of  justice. 
But  he  has  not  the  smallest  share  of  political  power,  and 
is,  in  fact,  only  a  noble  and  wealthy  subject  of  the  Com- 
pany, 


LOED  CLIVE  249 

It  would  have  been  easy  for  Clive,  during  his  second 
administration  in  Bengal,  to  accumulate  riches  such  as 
no  subject  in  Europe  possessed.  He  might  indeed,  with- 
out subjecting  the  rich  inhabitants  of  the  province  to  any 
pressure  beyond  that  to  which  their  mildest  rulers  had 
accustomed  them,  have  received  presents  to  the  amount 
of  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year.  The  neighbor- 
ing princes  would  gladly  have  paid  any  price  for  his 
favor.  But  he  appears  to  have  strictly  adhered  to  the 
rules  which  he  had  laid  down  for  the  guidance  of  others. 
The  Rajah  of  Benares  offered  him  diamonds  of  great 
value.  The  Nabob  of  Oude  pressed  him  to  accept  a  large 
sum  of  money  and  a  casket  of  costly  jewels.  Clive 
courteously  but  peremptorily  refused:  and  it  should  be 
observed  that  he  made  no  merit  of  his  refusal,  and  that 
the  facts  did  not  come  to  light  till  after  his  death.  He 
kept  an  exact  account  of  his  salary,  of  his  share  of  the 
profits  accruing  from  the  trade  in  salt,  and  of  those  pres- 
ents which,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  P]ast,  it  would 
be  churlish  to  refuse.  Out  of  the  sum  arising  from  these 
resources  he  defrayed  the  expenses  of  his  situation.  The 
sur^jlus  he  divided  among  a  few  attached  friends  who 
had  accompanied  him  to  India.  He  always  boasted,  and, 
as  far  as  we  can  judge,  he  boasted  with  truth,  that  his  last 
administration  diminished  instead  of  increased  his  for- 
tune. 

One  large  sum  indeed  he  accepted.  Meer  Jaffier  had 
left  him  by  will  above  sixty  thousand  pounds  sterling  in 
specie  and  jewels:  and  the  rules  which  had  been  recently 
laid  down  extr'iidcd  fudy  to  i)resents  from  the  living,  and 
did  not  affect  legacies  from  the  dead,  (/live  took  the 
money,  but  not  for  himself.  He  made  the  whole  over  to 
tlic  Company,  in  trust  for  officers  and  soldiers  invalided 
in  their  service.  The  fund  which  still  bears  his  name 
owes  its  origin   to  this  princely  donation. 

After  n  stay  of  eiglitc(Mi  inonfbs.  tlic  state  of  his  health 
made  it  necessary  for  him  to  ri-tiirn  to  Knropc.  At  the 
dose  of  January,  IT^T,  he  quiffcil  for  tin-  last  time  the 
country  on  whose  destinies  be  li;id  exercised  so  mighty 
an  influence. 

His  seefind  return  from  BeiiL'al  was  not,  like  bis  first, 
greeted  by  the  aeelainat ions  of  his  countrymr-n.     Numer- 


250  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ous  causes  were  already  at  work  which  embittered  the 
remaining  years  of  his  life,  and  hurried  him  to  an  un- 
timely grave.  His  old  enemies  at  the  India  House  were 
still  powerful  and  active;  and  they  had  been  reenforced 
by  a  large  band  of  allies  whose  violence  far  exceeded  their 
own.  The  whole  crew  of  pilferers  and  oppressors  from 
whom  he  had  rescued  Bengal  persecuted  him  with  the 
implacable  rancor  which  belongs  to  such  abject  natures. 
Many  of  them  even  invested  their  property  in  India  stock, 
merely  that  they  might  be  better  able  to  annoy  the  man 
whose  firmness  had  set  bounds  to  their  rapacity.  Lying 
newspapers  were  set  up  for  no  purpose  but  to  abuse  him ; 
and  the  temper  of  the  public  mind  was  then  such  that 
these  arts,  which  under  ordinary  circumstances  would 
have  been  ineffectual  against  truth  and  merit,  produced 
an  extraordinary  impression. 

The  great  events  which  had  taken  place  in  India  had 
called  into  existence  a  new  class  of  Englishmen,  to  whom, 
their  countrymen  gave  the  name  of  Nabobs.  These  per- 
sons had  generally  sprung  from  families  neither  ancient 
nor  opulent;  they  had  generally  been  sent  at  an  early  age 
to  the  East ;  and  they  had  there  acquired  large  fortunes, 
which  they  had  brought  back  to  their  native  land.  It  was 
natural  that,  not  having  had  much  opportunity  of  mixing 
with  the  best  society,  they  should  exhibit  some  of  the 
awkwardness  and  some  of  the  pomposity  of  upstarts.  It 
was  natural  that,  during  their  sojourn  in  Asia,  they 
should  have  acquired  some  tastes  and  habits  surprising,  if 
not  disgusting,  to  persons  who  never  had  quitted  Europe. 
It  was  natural  that,  having  enjoyed  great  consideration 
in  the  East,  they  should  not  be  disposed  to  sink  into  ob- 
scurity at  home ;  and  as  they  had  money,  and  had  not 
birth  or  high  connection,  it  was  natural  that  they  should 
display  a  little  obtrusively  the  single  advantage  which  they 
possessed.  Wherever  they  settled  there  was  a  kind  of 
feud  between  them  and  the  old  nobility  and  gentry, 
similar  to  that  which  raged  in  France  between  the  farmer- 
general  and  the  marquis.  This  enmity  to  the  aristocracy 
long  continued  to  distinguish  the  servants  of  the  Com- 
pany. More  than  twenty  years  after  the  time  of  which 
we  are  now  speaking,  Burke  pronounced  that  among  the 
Jacobins  might  be  reckoned  "the  East  Indians  almost  tO' 


LORD  CLIVE  251 

a  man,  who  cannot  bear  to  find  that  their  present  impor- 
tance does  not  bear  a  proportion  to  their  wealth." 

The  Nabobs  soon  became  a  most  unpopular  class  of 
men.  Some  of  them  had  in  the  East  displayed  eminent 
talents,  and  rendered  great  services  to  the  state;  but  at 
home  their  talents  were  not  shown  to  advantage,  and 
their  services  were  little  known.  That  they  had  sprung 
from  obscurity,  that  they  had  acquired  great  wealth,  that 
they  exhibited  it  insolently,  that  they  spent  it  extrava- 
gantly, that  they  raised  the  price  of  everything  in  their 
neighborhood  from  fresh  eggs  to  rotten  boroughs,  that 
.Jheir  liveries  outshone  those  of  dukes,  that  their  coaches 
were  finer  than  that  of  the  Lord  Mayor,  that  the  examples 
of  their  large  and  ill-governed  households  corrupted  half 
the  servants  in  the  country,  that  some  of  them,  with  all 
their  magnificence,  could  not  catch  the  tone  of  good 
society,  but,  in  spite  of  the  stud  and  the  crowd  of  menials, 
of  the  plate  and  the  Dresden  china,  of  the  venison  and  the 
Burgundy,  were  still  low  men ;  these  were  things  which 
excited,  both  in  the  class  from  which  they  had  sprung 
and  in  the  class  into  which  they  attempted  to  force  them- 
selves, the  bitter  aversion  which  is  the  effect  of  mingled 
en^'y  and  contempt.  But  wlien  it  was  also  rumored  that 
the  fortune  which  had  enabled  its  possessor  to  eclipse  the 
Lord-Lieutenant  on  the  race-ground,  or  to  carry  the 
rounty  against  the  head  of  a  house  as  old  as  Domesday 
Book,  had  been  accumulated  by  violating  public  faith,  by 
deposing  legitimate  prinr-cs,  by  reducing  whole  provinces 
to  beggar>'.  all  the  higher  and  better  as  well  as  all  the  low 
and  evil  parts  of  hunuin  nature  were  stirred  against  the 
wn'tfh  who  had  obtaiiud  by  guilt  and  dishonor  the  riches 
which  he  now  lavished  with  arrogant  and  inelegant  pro- 
fusion. The  inifortunate  Nabob  seemed  to  be  made 
up  of  those  foibles  aL'ainst  whieh  eomedy  has  pointed 
the  most  inereiless  ridienle,  and  of  those  crimes  wliieli 
have  thrown  the  deepest  gloom  over  tragedy,  of  Tnrcaret 
and  Nero,  of  Nfonsienr  Jonrdain  and  Tcichiird  the  Third. 
\  tempest  ot  execration  and  derision,  snch  as  can  be  com- 
pared only  to  that  outbreak  of  public  feeling  against  the 
Pnritnns  which  took  place  at  the  time  of  the  Restoration, 
burst  <>}\  the  sers'ants  of  the  Company.  The  humane  man 
was  horror-struck  at  the  way  in  which  they  had  got  their 


252  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

money,  the  thrifty  man  at  the  way  in  which  they  spent 
it.  The  dilettante  sneered  at  their  want  of  taste.  The 
maccaroni  black-balled  them  as  vulfrar  fellows.  Writers 
the  most  unlike  in  sentiment  and  style,  Methodists  and 
libertines,  philosophers  and  buffoons,  were  for  once  on  the 
same  side.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that,  during  a 
space  of  about  thirty  years,  the  whole  lighter  literature 
of  England  was  colored  by  the  feelings  which  we  have 
described.  Foote  brought  on  the  stage  an  Anglo-Indian 
chief,  dissolute,  ungenerous,  and  tyrannical,  ashamed  of 
the  humble  friends  of  his  youth,  hating  the  aristocracy, 
yet  childishly  eager  to  be  numbered  among  them,  squan- 
dering his  wealth  on  panders  and  flatterers,  tricking  out 
his  chairmen  with  the  most  costly  hothouse  flowers,  and 
astounding  the  ignorant  with  jargon  about  rupees,  lacs, 
and  jaghires.*  Mackenzie,  with  more  delicate  humor,  de- 
picted a  plain  country  family  raised  by  the  Indian  acqui- 
sitions of  one  of  its  members  to  sudden  opulence,  and 
exciting  derision  by  an  awkward  mimicrj'  of  the  manners 
of  the  great.  Cowper,  in  that  lofty  expostulation  which 
glows  with  the  very  spirit  of  the  Hebrew  poets,  placed  the 
oppression  of  India  foremost  in  the  list  of  those  national 
crimes  for  which  God  had  punished  England  with  years 
of  disastrous  war,  with  discomfiture  in  her  own  seas,  and 
with  the  loss  of  her  transatlantic  empire.  If  any  of  our 
readers  will  take  the  trouble  to  search  in  the  dusty  re- 
cesses of  circulating  libraries  for  some  novel  published 
sixty  years  ago,  the  chance  is  that  the  villain  or  sub-villain 
of  the  story  will  prove  to  be  a  savage  old  Nabob,  with  an 
immense  fortune,  a  tawny  complexion,  a  bad  liver,  and 
a  worse  heart. 

Such,  as  far  as  we  can  now  judge,  was  the  feeling  of 
the  country  respecting  Nabobs  in  general.  And  Clive 
was  eminently  the  Nabob,  the  ablest,  the  most  celebrated, 
the  highest  in  rank,  the  highest  in  fortune,  of  all  the 
fraternity.  His  wealth  was  exhibited  in  a  manner  which 
could  not  fail  to  excite  odium.  He  lived  with  great  mag- 
nificence in  Berkeley  Square.  He  reared  one  palace  in 
Shropshire  and  another  at  Claremont.  His  parliamentary 
influence  might  vie  with  that  of  the  greatest  families. 

•  An  assipnment  of  the  government  share  of  the  produce  of  a 
section  of  land  to  an  individual. 


LORD  CLIVE  253 

But  in  all  this  splendor  and  power  envy  found  something 
to  sneer  at.     On  some  of  his  relations  wealth  and  dignity 
seem  to  have  sat  as  awkwardly  as  on  Mackenzie's  Margery 
Mushroom.     Nor  was  he  himself,  with  all  his  great  quali- 
ties, free  from  those  weaknesses  which  the  satirists  of  that 
age  represented  as  characteristic  of  his  whole  class.     In 
the  field,  indeed,  his  habits  were  remarkably  simple.     He 
was  constantly  on  horseback,  was  never  seen  but  in  his 
uniform,  never  wore  silk,  never  entered  a  palanquin,  and 
was  content  with  the  plainest  fare.     But  when  he  was  no 
longer  at  the  head  of  an  army,  he  laid  aside  this  Spartan 
temperance    for   the    ostentatious    luxury    of   a    Sybarite. 
Though  his  person  was  ungraceful,  and  though  his  harsh 
features  were  redeemed  from  A'ulgar  ugliness  only  by  their 
stern,  dauntless,  and  commanding  expression,  he  was  fond 
of  rich  and  gay  clothing,  and  replenished  his  wardrobe 
with   absurd    profusion.      Sir   John    Malcolm    gives   us    a 
letter  worthy  of  Sir  Matthew  Mite,  in  which  Clive  orders 
"two  hundred  shirts,  the  best  and  finest  that  can  be  got 
for  love  or  money."     A   few   follies   of  this  description, 
grossly   exaggerated  by  report,  produced   an   unfavorable 
impression  on   the  public   mind.     But  this   was  not   the 
worst.      Black    stories,    of   which    the   greater   part   were 
pure   inventions,   were  circulated   respecting  his  conduct 
in  the  East.     He  had  to  bear  the  whole  odium,  not  only 
of  those  bad  acts  to  which  he  had  once  or  twice  stooped, 
but  of  all  the  bad  acts  of  all  the  Knglish  in  India,  of  bad 
acts  committed   when   he  was    absent,   nay,   of  bad    acts 
which   he  had  manfully   opposed   and   severely   punished. 
The  very  abuses  against  which  he  had  waged  an  honest, 
resolute,  and  successful  war  were  laid  to  his  account.     He 
was,   in   fact,  regarded   as  the  personification  of  all   tlio 
vices   and   weaknesses   wbidi   the  public,  with   or  without 
rea.son,  ascribed  to  the  Knglish  adventurers  in  Asia.     Wo 
have  ourselves  heard  old  men,  who  ktu'w  nothing  of  his 
history,  but  who  still  retained  the  j)r('.iiMliccs  conceived  in 
their  youth.  t;ilk  of  bini  as  mii  incariKitc  iicnd.     .Johnson 
always  held  this  language.     Brown,  whom  Clivc  employed 
to   lay   out   his   pleasure   grounds,    was    amazed    to    see    in 
the  house  of  his  noble  employer  a  chest  wliich  had  once 
been  filled  with  gold  from  the  treasury  of  Murshidabad, 
and  could  not  luiderstand  how  tlie  consciciu'e  of  the  crim- 


254  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

inal  could  suflfer  him  to  sleep  with  such  an  ohject  so  near 
to  his  bedchamber.  The  peasantry  of  Surrey  looked  with 
mysterious  liorror  on  the  stately  house  which  was  rising 
at  Claremont,  and  whispered  that  the  great  wicked  lord 
had  ordered  the  walls  to  be  made  so  thick  in  order  to  keep 
out  the  devil,  who  would  one  day  carry  him  away  bodily. 
Among  the  gapiiig  clowns  who  drank  in  this  frightful 
story  was  a  worthless  ugly  lad  of  the  name  of  Hunter, 
since  widely  known  as  William  Huntington,  S.S. ;  and 
the  superstition  which  was  strangely  mingled  with  the 
knavery  of  that  remarkable  impostor  seems  to  have  de- 
rived no  small  nutriment  from  the  tales  which  he  heard 
of  the  life  and  character  of  Clive. 

In  the  meantime,  the  impulse  which  Clive  had  given 
to  the  administration  of  Bengal  was  constantly  becoming 
fainter  and  fainter.  His  policy  was  to  a  great  extent 
abandoned ;  the  abuses  which  he  had  suppressed  began 
to  revive;  and  at  length  the  evils  which  a  bad  govern- 
ment had  engendered  were  aggravated  by  one  of  those 
fearful  visitations  which  the  best  government  cannot 
avert.  In  the  summer  of  1770,  the  rains  failed;  the  earth 
was  parched  up;  the  tanks  were  empty;  the  rivers  shrank 
within  their  beds;  and  a  famine,  such  as  is  known  only 
in  countries  where  every  household  depends  for  support 
on  its  own  little  patch  of  cultivation,  filled  the  whole 
valley  of  the  Ganges  with  misery  and  death.  Tender  and 
delicate  women,  whose  veils  had  never  been  lifted  before 
the  public  gaze,  came  forth  from  the  inner  chambers  in 
which  Eastern  jealousy  had  kept  watch  over  their  beauty, 
threw  themselves  on  the  earth  before  the  passers-by,  and, 
with  loud  wailings,  implored  a  handful  of  rice  for  their 
children.  The  Hugli  every  day  rolled  down  thousands 
of  corpses  close  to  the  porticoes  and  gardens  of  the  Eng- 
lish conquerors.  The  very  streets  of  Calcutta  were 
blocked  up  by  the  dying  and  the  dead.  The  lean  and 
feeble  survivors  had  not  energy  enough  to  bear  the 
bodies  of  their  kindred  to  the  funeral  pile  or  to  the  holy 
river,  or  even  to  scare  away  the  jackals  and  vultures,  who 
fed  on  human  remains  in  the  face  of  day.  The  extent  of 
the  mortality  was  never  ascertained,  but  it  was  popularly 
reckoned  by  millions.  This  melancholy  intelligence  added 
to  the  excitement  which  already  prevailed  in  England  on 


LORD  CLIVE  255 

Indian  subjects.  The  proprietors  of  East  India  stock  were 
uneasy  about  their  dividends.  All  men  of  common 
humanity  were  touched  by  the  calamities  of  our  unhappy 
subjects,  and  indiiination  soon  beg:an  to  mingle  itself  with 
pity.  It  was  rumored  that  the  Company's  servants  had 
created  the  famine  by  engrossing:  all  the  rice  of  the  coun- 
try;  that  they  had  sold  grain  for  eight,  ten,  twelve  times 
the  price  at  which  they  had  bought  it;  that  one  English 
functionary  who,  the  year  before,  was  not  worth  a  hundred 
guineas,  had,  during  that  season  of  misery,  remitted  sixty 
thousand  pounds  to  London.  These  charges  we  believe 
to  have  been  unfounded.  That  servants  of  the  Company 
had  ventured,  since  Clivc's  departure,  to  deal  in  rice,  is 
pro])a!ile.  That,  if  they  dealt  in  rice,  thoy  must  have 
gained  by  the  scarcity,  is  certain.  But  there  is  no  reason 
for  thinking  that  they  either  produced  or  aggravated  an 
evil  which  physical  causes  sufficiently  explain.  The  out- 
cry which  was  raised  against  them  on  this  occasion  was, 
we  suspect,  as  absurd  as  the  imputations  which,  in  times 
of  dearth  at  home,  were  once  thrown  by  statesmen  and 
judges,  and  are  still  thrown  by  two  or  three  old  women, 
on  the  corn  factors.  It  was,  however,  so  loud  and  so 
general  that  it  appears  to  have  imposed  even  on  an  intel- 
lect raised  so  high  above  vulgar  prejudices  as  that  of 
Adam  Smith.  What  was  still  more  extraordinary,  these 
unhappy  events  greatly  increased  the  unpopularity  of 
Lord  ("live.  lie  had  been  some  years  in  Knglaiid  when 
the  famine  took  place.  None  of  his  measures  had  the 
smallest  tendency  to  produce  such  a  caliiiuity.  If  the  ser- 
vants of  the  ('(juipany  had  tradccl  in  rice,  they  had  done 
so  in  direct  contravention  i>(  the  rule  which  he  had  laid 
df»wn,  and,  while  in  power,  liad  re.sohitely  enforced.  ImiI, 
in  the  eyes  of  his  coimtrynien,  he  was,  as  we  have  said, 
the  Nabob,  the  Anglo-Indian  character  jjersonified ;  and, 
while  he  was  building  and  jilanting  in  Surrey,  he  was  held 
responsible  for  all  the  effc'-ts  of  a  <lry  season  in  Jiengal. 

Parliament  had  hitherto  bestowed  very  little  attention 
on  our  Eastern  possessions.  Since  the  death  of  (leorge 
the  Second,  a  rapid  succession  of  weak  administrations, 
each  of  which  was  in  turn  flattered  and  betrayed  ly 
the  Court,  had  held  the  semblance  of  jiower.  Intrigues 
in    the  palace,  riota   in   the  capital,   and   insurrectionary 


256  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

iiiovoiiicnts  in  the  American  colonies,  had  left  the  advisers 
of  the  Crown  little  leisure  to  study  Indian  politics.  Where 
they  did  interfere,  their  interference  was  feeble  and 
irresolute.  Lord  Chatham,  indeed,  during  the  short  period 
of  his  ascendency  in  the  councils  of  Georp:e  the  Third,  had 
meditated  a  bold  and  sweeping  measure  respecting  the 
acquisitions  of  the  Company.  But  his  plans  were  ren- 
dered abortive  by  the  strange  malady  which  about  that 
time  began  to  overcloud  his  splendid  genius. 

At  length,  in  1772,  it  was  generally  felt  that  Parlia- 
ment could  no  longer  neglect  the  atl'airs  of  India.  The 
Government  was  stronger  than  any  which  had  held  power 
since  the  breach  between  Mr.  Pitt  and  the  great  Whig 
connection  in  1701.  No  pressing  question  of  domestic  or 
European  policy  required  the  attention  of  public  men. 
There  was  a  short  and  delusive  lull  between  two  tempests. 
The  excitement  produced  by  the  Middlesex  election  was 
over;  the  discontents  of  America  did  not  yet  threaten 
civil  war;  the  financial  difficulties  of  the  Company 
brought  on  a  crisis;  the  Ministers  were  forced  to  take 
up  the  subject ;  and  the  whole  storm,  which  had  long 
been  gathering,  now  broke  at  once  on  the  head  of  Clive. 

His  situation  was  indeed  singularly  unfortunate.  He 
was  hated  throughout  the  country,  hated  at  the  India 
House,  hated,  above  all,  by  those  wealthy  and  powerful 
servants  of  the  Company  whose  rapacity  and  tyranny  he 
had  withstood.  He  hSU  to  bear  the  double  odium  of  his 
bad  and  of  his  good  actions,  of  every  Indian  abuse  and 
of  every  Indian  reform.  The  state  of  the  political  world 
was  such  that  he  could  count  on  the  support  of  no  power- 
ful connection.  The  party  to  which  he  had  belonged, 
that  of  George  Grenvilie,  had  been  hostile  to  the  Govern- 
ment, and  yet  had  never  cordially  united  with  the  other 
sections  of  the  Opposition,  with  the  little  band  which  still 
followed  the  fortunes  of  Lord  Chatham,  or  with  the  large 
and  respectable  body  of  which  Lord  Rockingham  was  the 
acknowledged  leader.  George  Grenvilie  was  now  dead; 
his  followers  were  scattered;  and  Clive,  unconnected  with 
any  of  the  powerful  factions  which  divided  the  Parlia- 
ment, could  reckon  only  on  the  votes  of  those  members 
■who  were  returned  by  himself.  LLis  enemies,  particularly 
those  who  were  the  enemies  of  his  virtues,  were  unscrupu- 


LORD  CLIVE  257 

lous,  ferocious,  implacable.  Their  malevolence  aimed  at 
nothing  less  than  the  utter  ruin  of  his  fame  and  fortune. 
Thej'  wished  to  see  him  expelled  from  Parliament,  to  see 
his  spurs  chopped  off,  to  see  his  estate  confiscated ;  and  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  even  such  a  result  as  this  would 
have  quenched  their  thirst  for  revenge. 

Clive's  parliamentary  tactics  resembled  his  military  tac- 
tics. Deserted,  surrounded,  outnumbered,  and  with  every- 
thing at  stake,  he  did  not  even  deign  to  stand  on  the 
defensive,  but  pushed  boldly  forward  to  the  attack.  At 
an  early  stage  of  the  discussions  on  Indian  affairs  he 
rose,  and  in  a  long  and  elaborate  speech  vindicated  him- 
self from  a  large  part  of  the  accusations  which  had  been 
brought  against  him.  He  is  said  to  have  produced  a 
great  impression  on  his  audience.  Lord  Chatham,  who, 
now  the  ghost  of  his  former  self,  loved  to  haunt  the  scene 
of  his  glory,  was  that  night  under  the  gallery  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  declared  that  he  had  never  heard 
a  finer  speech.  It  was  subsequently  printed  under  Clive's 
direction,  and,  when  the  fullest  allowance  has  been  made 
for  the  assistance  which  he  may  have  obtained  from 
literary  friends,  proves  him  to  have  possessed,  not  merely 
strong  sense  and  a  manly  spirit,  but  talents  both  for 
disquisition  and  declamation  wliich  assiduous  culture 
might  have  improved  into  the  highest  excellence.  He 
confined  his  defense  on  this  occasion  to  the  measures  of 
his  last  administratif)n,  and  succeeded  so  far  that  his 
enemies  thenceforth  tbouglit  it  expedient  to  direct  their 
attacks  chiefly  against  the  earlier  part  of  his  life. 

The  earlier  part  of  his  life  unfortunately  presented 
some  assailable  points  to  their  hostility.  A  connnittee 
•was  chosen  by  ballot  to  inquire  into  the  affairs  of  India; 
and  by  this  foinniittcf  tlio  wliolc  history  of  that  great 
revolution  which  tlirew  down  Sur.ijah  Dowlali  and  raised 
Meer  Jafficr  was  sifted  with  malignant  care.  Clive  was 
subjected  to  the  most  unsparing  cxaniinjit  ion  and  cross- 
exanunation,  and  afterwards  bitterly  conqilaimd  that  he, 
the  Piaron  of  Plassey,  had  been  treated  like  a  sheep-stealer. 
Tlip  boldness  and  ingenuousness  of  his  rej)lies  would  alono 
putHce  to  show  how  alien  from  his  nature  were  the  frau<ls 
to  which,  in  the  course  of  his  Eastern  negotiations,  ho 
had  sometimes  descended.     He  avowed  the  arts  which  he 


258  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

had  employed  to  deceive  Omichund,  and  resolutely  said 
that  ho  was  not  ashamed  of  them,  and  that,  in  the  same 
circumstances,  he  would  again  act  in  the  same  manner. 
He  admitted  that  he  had  received  immense  sums  from 
Meer  Jaffier;  hut  he  denied  that,  in  doing  so,  he  had 
violated  any  obligation  of  morality  or  honor.  He  laid 
claim,  on  the  contrary,  and  not  without  some  reason,  to 
the  i)raise  of  eminent  disinterestedness.  He  described  in 
vivid  language  the  situation  in  which  his  victory  had 
placed  him;  a  great  prince  dependent  on  his  pleasure; 
an  opulent  city  afraid  of  being  given  up  to  plunder; 
wealthy  bankers  bidding  against  each  other  for  his  smiles; 
vaults  piled  with  gold  and  jewels  thrown  open  to  him 
alone.  "By  God,  Mr.  Chairman,"  he  exclaimed,  "at  this 
moment  I  stand  astonished  at  my  own  moderation." 

The  inquiry  was  so  extensive  that  the  Houses  rose  be- 
fore it  had  been  completed.  It  was  continued  in  the  fol- 
lowing session.  When  at  length  the  committee  had 
concluded  its  labors,  enlightened  and  impartial  men  had 
little  difficulty  in  making  up  their  minds  as  to  the  result. 
It  was  clear  that  Clive  had  been  guilty  of  some  acts  which 
it  is  impossible  to  vindicate  without  attacking  the  au- 
thority of  all  the  most  sacred  laws  which  regulate  the 
intercourse  of  individuals  and  of  states.  But  it  was 
equally  clear  that  he  had  displayed  great  talents,  and  even 
great  virtues;  that  he  had  rendered  eminent  services  both 
to  his  country  and  to  the  people  of  India ;  and  that  it 
was  in  truth  not  for  his  dealings  with  Meer  Jaffier  nor 
for  the  fraud  which  he  had  practised  on  Omichund,  but 
for  his  determined  resistance  to  avarice  and  tyranny,  that 
he  was  now  called  in  question. 

Ordinary  criminal  justice  knows  nothing  of  set-off. 
The  greatest  desert  cannot  be  pleaded  in  answer  to  a 
charge  of  the  slightest  transgression.  If  a  man  has  sold 
beer  on  Sunday  morning,  it  is  no  defense  that  he  has 
saved  the  life  of  a  fellow-creature  at  the  risk  of  his  own. 
If  he  has  harnessed  a  Newfoundland  dog  to  his  little 
child's  carriage,  it  is  no  defense  that  he  was  wounded 
at  Waterloo.  But  it  is  not  in  this  way  that  we  ought 
to  deal  with  men  who,  raised  far  above  ordinary  re- 
straints, and  tried  by  far  more  than  ordinary  temptations, 
are  entitled  to  a  more  than  ordinary  measure  of  indul- 


LOED  CLIVE  259 

gence.  Such  men  should  be  judged  by  their  contem- 
poraries as  they  will  be  judged  by  posterity.  Their  bad 
actions  ought  not,  indeed,  to  be  .called  good,  but  their 
good  and  bad  actions  ought  to  be  fairly  weighed;  and, 
if  on  the  whole  the  good  preponderate,  the  sentence  ought 
to  be  one,  not  merely  of  acquittal,  but  of  approbation. 
Xot  a  single  great  ruler  in  history  can  be  absolved  by  a 
judge  who  fixes  his  eye  inexorably  on  one  or  two  unjustifi- 
able acts.  Bruce  the  deliverer  of  Scotland,  Maurice  the 
deliver-^-  of  Germany,  William  the  deliverer  of  Holland, 
his  great  descendant  the  deliverer  of  England,  Murray 
the  good  regent,  Cosmo  the  father  of  his  country,  Henry 
the  Fourth  of  France,  Peter  the  Great  of  Russia,  how 
would  the  best  of  them  pass  such  a  scrutiny  ?  History 
takes  wider  views ;  and  the  "best  tribunal  for  great  politi- 
cal cases  is  the  trilmnal  which  anticipates  the  verdict  of 
history. 

Reasonable  and  moderate  men  of  all  parties  felt  this 
in  Clive's  case.  They  could  not  pronounce  him  blameless; 
but  they  were  not  disposed  to  abandon  him  to  that  low- 
minded  and  rancorous  pack  who  had  run  hira  down  and 
were  eager  to  worry  him  to  death.  Lord  North,  though 
not  very  friendly  to  him,  was  not  disposed  to  go  to  ex- 
tremities against  him.  While  the  inquiry  was  still  in 
progress,  Olive,  who  had  some  years  before  Ijcon  created 
a  Knight  of  the  J3ath,  was  installed  with  great  pomp  in 
Henry  the  Seventh'.s  Chapel,  He  was  soon  after  appointed 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  Sliro|)shire.  When  he  kissed  hands, 
George  the  Third,  who  had  always  been  partial  to  him, 
admitted  him  to  a  private  audience,  talked  to  him  half 
nn  hour  on  Tndiati  politics,  and  was  visibly  afl"('ct('d  when 
the  persecuted  geiicral  spoke  of  his  services  and  of  the 
way  in  which  they  had  been  requited. 

At  length  thf  chargrs  caiiif  in  a  definite  form  before 
the  House  of  Conmions.  Jiurgoyne,  cliairman  of  the 
committee,  a  man  of  wit,  fashion,  and  honor,  an  agree- 
able draniatie  writer,  hti  officer  whose  courage  was  never 
questioned  and  who.se  skill  was  at  that  time  highly  es- 
teemed, appeared  as  the  accuser.  The  meniliers  of  the 
administration  took  different  sides;  for  in  flint  age  aU 
questions  were  open  questions,  except  sucli  as  were 
brought  forward  by  the  Government,  or.8\ich  as  implied 


260  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

some  censure  on  tlie  Government.  Thurlow,  the  Attorney- 
General,  was  among  the  assaihmts.  Wedderhurne,  the 
Solicitor-General,  strongly  attached  to  Clive,  defended 
his  friend  with  extraordinary  force  of  argument  and  lan- 
guage. It  is  a  curious  circumstance  that,  some  years  later, 
Thurlow  was  the  most  conspicuous  champion  of  Warren 
Hastings,  while  Wedderhurne  was  among  the  most  unre- 
lenting persecutors  of  that  great  though  not  faultless 
statesman.  Clive  spoke  in  his  own  defense  at  less  length 
and  with  less  art  than  in  the  preceding  year,  but  with 
much  energy  and  pathos.  He  recountorcd  his  great 
actions  and  his  wrongs;  and,  after  bidding  his  hear- 
ers remember  that  they  were  about  to  decide  not  only 
on  his  honor  but  on  their  own,  he  retired  from  the 
House. 

The  Commons  resolved  that  acquisitions  made  by  the 
arms  of  the  State  belong  to  the  State  alone,  and  that  it  is 
illegal  in  the  servants  of  the  State  to  appropriate  such 
acquisitions  to  themselves.  They  resolved  that  this  whole- 
.some  rule  appeared  to  have  been  systematically  violated 
by  the  English  functionaries  in  Bengal.  On  a  subsequent 
day  they  went  a  step  farther,  and  resolved  that  Clive  had, 
by  means  of  the  power  which  he  possessed  as  commander 
of  the  British  forces  in  India,  obtained  large  sums  from 
Meer  Jaffier.  Here  the  House  stopped.  They  had  voted 
the  major  and  minor  of  Burgoyne's  syllogism;  but  they 
shrank  from  drawing  the  logical  conclusion.  When  it 
was  moved  that  Lord  Clive  had  abused  his  powers,  and 
set  an  evil  example  to  the  servants  of  the  public,  the 
previous  question  was  put  and  carried.  At  length,  long 
after  the  sun  had  risen  on  an  animated  debate,  Wedder- 
hurne moved  that  Lord  Clive  had  at  the  same  time  ren- 
dered great  and  meritorious  services  to  his  country;  and 
this  motion  passed  without  a  division. 

The  result  of  this  memorable  inquiry  appears  to  us,  on 
the  whole,  honorable  to  the  justice,  moderation,  and  dis- 
cernment of  the  Commons.  They  had  indeed  no  great 
temptation  to  do  wrong.  They  would  have  been  very 
bad  judges  of  an  accusation  brought  against  Jenkinson 
or  against  Wilkes.  •  But  the  question  respecting  Clive  was 
not  a  party  question ;  and  the  House  accordingly  acted 
with  the  good  sense  and  good  feeling  which  may  always 


LOED  CLIVE  261 

be  expected  from  an  assembly  of  English  gentlemen,  not 
blinded  by  faction. 

The  equitable  and  temperate  proceedings  of  the  British 
Parliament  were  set  off  to  the  greatest  advantage  by  a 
foil.  The  wretched  government  of  Louis  the  Fifteenth 
had  murdered,  directly  or  indirectly,  almost  every  French- 
man who  had  served  his  country  with  distinction  in  the 
East.  Labourdonnais  was  flung  into  the  Bastile,  and, 
after  years  of  suffering,  left  it  only  to  die.  Dupleix, 
stripped  of  his  immense  fortune,  and  broken-hearted  by 
humiliating  attendance  in  antechambers,  sank  into  an 
obscure  grave.  Lally  was  dragged  to  the  common  place 
of  execution  with  a  gag  between  his  lips.  The  Commons 
of  England,  on  the  other  hand,  treated  their  living  cap- 
tain with  that  discriminating  justice  which  is  seldom 
shown  except  to  the  dead.  They  laid  down  sound  general 
principles;  they  delicately  pointed  out  where  he  had  devi- 
ated from  those  principles;  and  they  tempered  the  gentle 
censure  with  lilieral  eulogy.  The  contrast  struck  Voltaire, 
always  partial  to  England,  and  always  eager  to  expose  the 
abuses  of  the  Parliaments  of  Fran<'e.  Indeed  he  seems,  at 
this  time,  to  have  meditated  a  history  of  the  conquest 
of  Bengal.  lie  mentioned  his  design  to  Dr.  Moore  when 
that  amusing  writer  visited  him  at  Ferney.  Weddcr- 
burne  took  great  interest  in  the  matter,  and  pressed  Clive 
to  fnrnisli  matorials.  Had  tlie  plan  l»een  carried  into 
execution,  we  have  no  doubt  tbat  Voltaire  would  have 
produced  a  book  containing  much  lively  and  picturesque 
narrative,  many  just  and  biiiiianc  sentiments  poignantly 
expressed,  many  grotes(|\u'  lilumlers,  many  sneers  at  the 
Mosaic  chronology,  much  scandal  about  the  Catholic  mis- 
sionaries, ;md  much  snliliine  tlico-iiliilantlirojiy,  stolen 
from  the  New  Testament,  and  i)Ut  into  (be,  mouths  of 
virtuous  and  philosojihical    I'ralimans. 

Clivo  was  now  secure  in  tlie  enjoyment  of  bis  fortune 
and  his  honors.  lie  was  surrounded  liy  attaclied  frien<ls 
and  relations;  and  he  had  not  yet  passed  the  season  of 
vit'orons  bodily  and  mental  exertion.  But  clouds  had  long 
been  gatbcring  over  bis  mind,  and  now  seltled  on  it  in 
thick  darkness.  From  early  youth  he  had  been  subject  to 
fits  of  tliat  strange  nir-JMiicboly  "wliicli  rejoiceth  exceed- 
ingly and  i-^  trbul  wbeu  it  c;in  fitid  tbe  grave."     Wliile  slill 


2G2  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

a  writer  at  Madras,  he  had  twice  attempted  to  destroy 
himself.  Business  and  prosperity  had  produced  a  salutary 
effect  on  his  spirits.  In  India,  while  he  was  occupied 
by  great  affairs,  in  Enj^rland,  while  wealth  and  rank  had 
still  the  charm  of  novelty,  he  had  borne  up  against  his 
constitutional  misery.  But  he  had  now  nothing  to  do, 
and  nothing  to  wish  for.  His  active  spirit  in  an  inactive 
situation  drooped  and  withered  like  a  plant  in  an  uncon- 
genial air.  The  malignity  with  which  his  enemies  had 
pursued  him,  the  indignity  with  which  he  had  been 
treated  by  the  committee,  the  censure,  lenient  as  it  was, 
which  the  House  of  Commons  had  pronounced,  the  knowl- 
edge that  he  was  regarded  by  a  large  portion  of  his  coun- 
trymen as  a  cruel  and  perfidious  tyrant,  all  concurred 
to  irritate  and  depress  him.  In  the  meantime,  his  temper 
was  tried  by  acute  physical  suffering.  During  his  long 
residence  in  tropical  climates,  he  had  contracted  several 
painful  distempers.  In  order  to  obtain  ease  he  called  in 
the  help  of  opium ;  and  he  was  gradually  enslaved  by  this 
treacherous  ally.  To  the  last,  however,  his  genius  occa- 
sionally flashed  through  the  gloom.  It  is  said  that  he 
would  sometimes,  after  sitting  silent  and  torpid  for 
hours,  rouse  himself  to  the  discussion  of  some  great  ques- 
tion, would  display  in  full  vigor  all  the  talents  of  the 
soldier  and  the  statesman,  and  would  then  sink  back  into 
his  melancholy,  repose. 

The  disputes  with  America  had  now  become  so  serious 
that  an  appeal  to  the  sword  seemed  inevitable;  and  the 
^linistors  were  desirous  to  avail  themselves  of  the  services 
of  Clive.  Had  he  still  been  what  he  was  when  he  raised 
the  siege  of  Patna,  and  annihilated  the  Dutch  army  and 
navy  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ganges,  it  is  not  improbable  that 
the  resistance  of  the  Colonists  would  have  been  put  down, 
and  that  the  inevitable  separation  would  have  been  de- 
ferred for  a  few  years.  But  it  was  too  late.  His  strong 
mind  was  fast  sinking  under  many  kinds  of  suffering. 
On  the  twenty-second  of  November,  1774,  he  died  by  his 
own  hand.    He  had  just  completed  his  forty-ninth  year. 

In  the  awful  close  of  so  much  prosperity  and  glory, 
the  vulgar  saw  only  a  confirmation  of  all  their  prejudices; 
and  some  men  of  real  piety  and  gonins  so  far  forgot 
the  maxims  both  of  religion  and  of  philosophy  as  confi- 


LORD  CLIYE  263 

dently  to  ascribe  the  mournful  event  to  the  just  vengeance 
of  God,  and  to  the  horrors  of  an  evil  conscience.  It  is 
with  very  different  feelings  that  we  contemplate  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  great  mind  ruined  by  the  weariness  of  satiety, 
by  the  pangs  of  wounded  honor,  by  fatal  diseases,  and 
more  fatal  remedies. 

Clive  committed  great  faults;  and  we  have  not  at- 
tempted to  disguise  them.  But  his  faults,  when  weighed 
against  his  merits,  and  viewed  in  connection  with  his 
temptations,  do  not  appear  to  us  to  deprive  him  of  his 
right  to  an  honorable  place  in  the  estimation  of  pos- 
terity. 

From  his  first  visit  to  India  dates  the  renown  of  the 
English  arms  in  the  East.  Till  he  appeared,  his  country- 
men were  despised  as  mere  pedlers,  wliile  the  French  were 
revered  as  a  people  formed  for  victory  and  command. 
Ilis  courage  and  capacity  dissolved  the  charm.  With 
the  defense  of  Arcot  coniniences  that  long  series  of 
Oriental  triumphs  which  closes  with  the  fall  of  Ghizni. 
Nor  must  we  forget  tlmt  In-  was  only  twenty-five  years 
old  when  he  approved  himself  ripe  for  military  command. 
This  is  a  rare  if  not  a  singular  distinction.  It  is  true 
that  Alexander,  Cnnde,  and  Charles  the  Twelfth  won 
great  battles  at  a  still  earlier  age;  but  those  princes  were 
surrounded  by  veteran  generals  of  distinguished  skill,  to 
whose  suggr'stions  must  be  attributed  the  victories  of  tho 
Granicus,  of  Koeroi,  and  of  Narva.  Clive,  an  inexi)eri- 
enced  youth,  had  yet  more  experience  than  any  of  those 
who  served  under  hitn.  Tic  had  to  form  himself,  to 
form  his  officers,  and  to  form  his  army.  The  only  man,  as 
far  as  we  recollect,  who  at  an  equally  early  age  ever 
gave  equal  proof  of  talents  for  war  was  Napoleon  T?ona- 
parte. 

From  dive's  second  visit  to  India  dates  the  political 
nscr-ndency  of  the  English  in  that  country.  Tlis  dex- 
terity and  H'soliition  realized,  in  the  c-ourse  of  a  few 
months,  more  than  all  tlie  gorgeous  visions  which  had 
floated  before  the  imagination  of  Diijileix.  Such  an  ex- 
tent of  cultivated  territory,  such  an  anmunt  of  reveinu', 
such  n  miiltitude  of  subjects,  was  never  added  to  the 
dominion  of  Home  by  the  most  successful  jiroconsul.  Xor 
were    such    wealthy    sjjoils    ever    bf)rne    under    arches    of 


f>CA  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

triumpli,  down  the  Sacred  Way,  and  through  the  crowded 
Forum,  to  the  threshold  of  Tarpeian  Jove.  The  fame  of 
those  who  subdued  Antiochus  and  Tigranes  grows  dim 
when  compared  with  the  splendor  of  the  exploits  which 
the  young  English  adventurer  achieved  at  the  head  of 
an  army  not  ecpial  in  numbers  to  one-half  of  a  Roman 
legion. 

From  Clivo's  third  visit  to  India  dates  the  purity  of  the 
administration  of  our  Eastern  empire.  When  he  landed 
in  Calcutta  in  1765,  Bengal  was  regarded  as  a  place  to 
which  Englishmen  were  sent  only  to  get  rich,  by  any 
means,  in  the  shortest  possible  time.  He  first  made  daunt- 
less and  unsparing  war  on  that  gigantic  system  of 
oppression,  extortion,  and  corruption.  In  that  war  he 
manfully  put  to  hazard  his  ease,  his  fame,  and  his  splen- 
did fortune.  The  same  sense  of  justice  which  forbids  us 
to  conceal  or  extenuate  the  faidts  of  his  earlier  days 
compels  us  to  admit  that  those  faults  were  nobly  repaired. 
If  the  reproach  of  the  Company  and  of  its  servants  has 
been  taken  away,  if  in  India  the  yoke  of  foreign  masters, 
elsewhere  the  heaviest  of  all  yokes,  has  been  found  lighter 
than  that  of  any  native  dynasty,  if  to  that  gang  of  public 
robbers  which  formerly  spread  terror  through  the  whole 
plain  of  Bengal  has  succeeded  a  body  of  functionaries  not 
more  highly  distinguished  by  ability  and  diligence  than 
by  integrity,  disinterestedness,  and  public  spirit,  if  we 
now  see  such  men  as  Munro,  Elphinstone,  and  Metcalfe, 
after  leading  victorious  armies,  after  making  and  de- 
posing kings,  return,  proud  of  their  honorable  poverty, 
from  a  land  which  once  held  out  to  every  greedy  factor 
the  hope  of  boundless  wealth,  the  praise  is  in  no  small 
measure  due  to  Clive.  His  name  stands  high  on  the  roll 
of  conquerors.  But  it  is  found  in  a  better  list,  in  the  list 
of  those  who  have  done  and  suffered  much  for  the  happi- 
ness of  mankind.  To  the  warrior,  history  will  assign  a 
place  in  the  sajne  rank  with  Lueullus  and  Trajan.  Nor 
will  she  deny  to  the  reformer  a  share  of  that  veneration 
with  which  France  cherishes  the  memory  of  Turgot,  and 
with  which  the  latest  generatiotis  of  Hindus  will  contem- 
plate the  statue  of  Lord  William  Bentinck. 


WARREN  HASTINGS.     (October,  1841.) 

Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Warren  Hastings,  first  Governor-General 
of  Bengal.  Compiled  from  Original  Papers,  by  the  Rev. 
G.  R.  Gleig,  M.A.     3  vols.     8vo.     London:   1841. 

This  book  seems  to  have  been  manufactured  in  pursuance 
of  a  contract,  by  which  the  representatives  of  Warren 
Hastings,  on  the  one  part,  bound  themselves  to  furnish 
papers,  and  Mr.  Gleig,  on  the  other  part,  bound  himself 
to  furnish  praise.  It  is  but  just  to  say  that  the  covenants 
on  both  sides  have  been  most  faithfully  kept;  and  the 
result  is  before  us  in  the  form  of  three  big  bad  volumes, 
full  of  undigested  correspondence  and  undiscerning 
panegyric. 

If  it  were  worth  while  to  examine  this  performance  in 
detail,  we  could  easily  make  a  long  article  by  merely 
pointing  out  inaccurate  statements,  inelegant  expressions, 
and  immoral  doctrines.  But  it  would  be  idle  to  waste 
criticism  on  a  bookmaker;  and,  whatever  credit  Mr.  Gleig 
may  have  justly  earned  by  former  w'orks,  it  is  as  a  book- 
maker, and  nothing  more,  that  he  now  comes  before  us. 
^fore  eminent  men  than  ^fr.  Gleig  have  written  nearly  as 
ill  as  he,  when  they  have  .stooped  to  similar  drudgery.  It 
would  be  unjust  to  estimate  Goldsmith  by  the  History  of 
Greece  or  Seott  by  the  Life  of  Napoleon.  ]\fr.  Gleig  is 
neither  a  Goldsmith  nor  a  Scott;  but  it  would  be  unjust 
to  deny  that  he  is  capable  of  something  better  than  these 
Memoirs.  It  woulil  also,  we  hope  and  believe,  be  unjust 
to  charge  any  Christian  minister  with  the  guilt  of  de- 
liberately maintaining  some  propositions  which  we  find 
in  this  book.  It  is  not  too  inucli  to  say  that  Mr.  Gleig 
has  written  several  passages,  which  liear  the  same  r(!lation 
to  the  Prince  of  Machiavelli  that  the  Prince  of  Madiiavelli 
bears  to  the  Whole  Duty  of  Man,  and  which  would  excite 
amazement  in  a  den  of  roltbers,  or  on  board  of  a  schooner 
of  pirates.     But  we  are  willing  to  attribute  these  olTenses 

2(1.5 


266  lUSTOKlCAL  ESSAYS 

to  haste,  to  thoushtlessnoss,  and  to  that  disease  of  the 
understanding  which  may  be  caUed  the  Furor  Biograph- 
icus,  and  which  is  to  writers  of  lives  what  the  goitre  is  to 
an  Alpine  shepherd,  or  dirt-eating  to  a  Negro  slave. 

We  are  iiu-lined  to  think  that  we  shall  b(>st  meet  the 
wishes  of  our  readers,  if,  instead  of  dwelling  on  the  faults 
of  this  book,  we  attempt  to  give,  in  a  way  necessarily 
hasty  and  imperfect,  our  own  view  of  the  life  and  char- 
acter of  Mr.  Hastings.  Our  feeling  toward  him  is  not 
exactly  that  of  the  House  of  Commons  which  impeached 
him  in  1787;  neither  is  it  that  of  the  House  of  Commons 
which  uncovered  and  stood  up  to  receive  him  in  1S13.  He 
had  great  qualities,  and  he  rendered  great  services  to  the 
state.  But  to  represent  him  as  a  man  of  stainless  virtue 
is  to  make  him  ridiculous;  and  from  regard  for  his 
memory,  if  from  no  other  feeling,  his  friends  would  have 
done  well  to  lend  no  countenance  to  such  puerile  adula- 
tion. We  believe  that,  if  he  were  now  living,  he  would 
have  sufficient  judgment  and  sufficient  greatness  of  mind 
to  wish  to  be  shown  as  he  was.  He  must  have  known 
that  there  were  dark  spots  on  his  fame.  He  might  also 
have  felt  with  pride  that  the  splendor  of  his  fame  would 
bear  many  spots.  He  would  have  preferred,  we  are  con- 
fident, even  the  severity  of  Mr.  Mill  to  the  puffing  of  Mr. 
Gleig.  He  would  have  wished  posterity  to  have  a  likeness 
of  him,  though  an  unfavorable  likeness,  rather  than  a 
daub  at  once  insipid  and  unnatural,  resembling  neither 
him  nor  anybody  else.  "Paint  me  as  I  am,"  said  Oliver 
Cromwell,  while  sitting  to  young  Lely.  "If  you  leave  out 
the  scars  and  wrinkles,  I  will  not  pay  you  a  shilling." 
Even  in  such  a  trifle,  the  great  Protector  showed  both  his 
good  sense  and  his  magnanimity.  He  did  not  wish  all 
that  was  characteristic  in  his  countenance  to  be  lost,  in 
the  vain  attempt  to  give  him  the  regular  features  and 
smooth  blooming  cheeks  of  the  curl-pated  minions  of 
James  the  First.  He  was  content  that  his  face  should 
go  forth  marked  with  all  the  Idemishes  which  had  been 
put  on  it  by  time,  by  war,  by  sleepless  nights,  by  anxiety, 
perhaps  by  remorse;  but  with  valor,  policy,  authority,  and 
pultlic  care  written  in  all  its  princely  lines.  If  men  truly 
grejit  knew  their  own  interests,  it  is  thus  that  they  would 
wish  their  minds  to  be  portrayed. 


WARKEN  HASTINGS  267 

Warren  Hastings  sprang  from  an  ancient  and  illustrious 
race.  It  has  been  affirmed  that  his  pedigree  can  be  traced 
back  to  the  great  Danish  sea-king,  whose  sails  were  long 
the  terror  of  both  coasts  of  the  British  Channel,  and  who, 
after  many  fierce  and  doubtful  struggles,  yielded  at  last  to 
the  valor  and  genius  of  Alfred.  But  the  undoubted  splen- 
dor of  the  line  of  Hastings  needs  no  illustration  from 
fable.  One  branch  of  that  line  wore,  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  the  coronet  of  Pembroke.  From  another  branch 
sprang  the  renowned  Chamberlain,  the  faithful  adherent 
of  the  White  Rose,  whose  fate  has  furnished  so  striking  a 
theme  both  to  poets  and  to  historians.  His  family  re- 
ceived from  the  Tudors  the  earldom  of  Huntingdon, 
which,  after  long  dispossession,  was  regained  in  our  time 
by  a  series  of  events  scarcely  paralleled  in  romance. 

The  lords  of  the  manor  of  Daylesford,  in  Worcester- 
shire, claimed  to  be  considered  as  the  heads  of  this  dis- 
tinguished family.  The  main  stock,  indeed,  prospered  less 
than  some  of  the  younger  shoots.  But  the  Daylesford 
family,  though  not  ennobled,  was  wealthy  and  highly 
considered,  till,  about  two  hundred  years  ago,  it  was 
overwhelmed  by  the  great  ruin  of  the  civil  war.  The 
Hastings  of  that  time  was  a  zealous  cavalier.  He  raised 
money  on  his  lands,  sent  his  plate  to  the  mint  at  Oxford, 
joined  the  royal  army,  and,  after  spending  half  his  prop- 
erty in  the  cause  of  King  Charles,  was  glad  to  ransom 
himself  by  making  over  most  of  the  remaining  half  to 
Speaker  j^cnthal.  The  old  seat  at  Daylesford  still  re- 
mained in  the  family;  but  it  could  no  longer  be  kept  up; 
and  in  the  following  generation  it  was  sold  to  a  merchant 
of  London. 

Before  this  transfer  took  pliicc,  llic  last  Hastings  of 
Daylesforrl  had  presented  his  se<'ond  son  to  the  rectory  of 
the  parish  in  wbieh  the  aneient  residence  of  the  family 
stood.  The  living  was  of  little  value;  and  the  situation 
of  the  poor  clergyman,  after  the  sale  of  tbe  estate,  was  de- 
plorable. He  was  constantly  engaged  in  lawsuits  about 
his  tithes  with  the  new  lorrl  of  tbe  inaiK)r,  and  was  at 
length  utterly  ruined.  His  eldest  son,  HoWMn],  a  well- 
conducted  yo\ing  man,  obtained  a  plaee  in  tiii!  Customs. 
The  second  son,  Pynaston,  an  idle  wortldess  boy,  married 
before  he  was  sixteen,  lost  his  wife  in  two  years,  and  died 


268  HlSTOllICAL  ESSAYS 

in  the  West  Indies,  leaving  to  the  care  of  his  unfortunate 
father  a  little  orphan,  destined  to  strange  and  memorable 
vicissitudes  of  fortune. 

Warren,  the  son  of  Pynaston,  was  born  on  the  sixth  of 
December,  1732.  His  mother  died  a  few  days  later,  and 
he  was  left  dependent  on  his  distressed  grandfather.  The 
child  was  early  sent  to  the  village  school,  where  he  learned 
his  letters  on  the  same  bench  with  the  sons  of  the  peas- 
antry. Nor  did  anything  in  his  garb  or  fare  indicate 
that  his  life  was  to  take  a  widely  different  course  from 
that  of  the  young  rustics  with  whom  he  studied  and 
played.  But  no  cloud  could  overcast  the  dawn  of  so  much 
genius  and  so  much  ambition.  The  very  ploughmen  ob- 
served, and  long  remembered,  how  kindly  little  Warren 
took  to  his  book.  The  daily  sight  of  the  lands  which  his 
ancestors  had  possessed,  and  which  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  strangers,  filled  his  young  brain  with  wild 
fancies  and  projects.  He  loved  to  hear  stories  of  the 
wealth  and  greatness  of  his  progenitors,  of  their  splendid 
housekeeping,  their  loyalty,  and  their  valor.  On  one 
bright  summer  day,  the  boy,  then  just  seven  years  old, 
lay  on  the  bank  of  the  rivulet  which  flows  through  the  old 
domain  of  his  house  to  join  the  Isis.  There,  as  threescore 
and  ten  years  later  he  told  the  tale,  rose  in  his  mind  a 
scheme  which,  through  all  the  turns  of  his  eventful  career, 
was  never  alnindoned.  He  would  recover  the  estate  which 
had  belnngod  to  his  fathers.  He  would  be  Hastings  of 
Daylesford.  This  purpose,  formed  in  infancy  and  poverty, 
grew  stronger  as  his  intellect  expanded  and  as  his  fortune 
rose.  He  pursued  his  plan  with  that  calm  but  indomitable 
force  of  will  which  was  the  most  striking  peculiarity  of 
his  character.  When,  uiidcr  a  trojiical  sun,  he  ruled  fifty 
millions  of  Asiatics,  his  hopes,  amidst  all  the  cares  of 
war,  finance,  and  legislation,  still  pointed  to  Daylesford. 
And  when  his  long  public  life,  so  singularly  checkered 
with  good  and  evil,  with  glory  and  obloquy,  had  at  length 
closed  forever,  it  was  to  Daylesford  that  he  retired  to  die. 

When  he  was  eight  years  old,  his  uncle  Howard  deter- 
mined to  take  charge  of  him,  and  to  give  him  a  liberal 
education.  The  boy  went  up  to  London,  and  was  sent  to 
a  school  at  Newington,  where  he  was  well  taught  biit  ill 
fed.    He  always  attributed  the  smallness  of  his  stature  to 


WARREN  HASTINGS  269 

the  hard  and  scanty  fare  of  this  seminary.  At  ten  he  was 
removed  to  Westminster  School,  then  flourishing  under 
the  care  of  Dr.  Nichols.  Vinny  Bourne,  as  his  pupils 
affectionately  called  him,  was  one  of  the  masters. 
Churchill,  Colman,  Lloyd,  Cumberland,  Cowper,  were 
among  the  students.  With  Cowper,  Hastings  formed  a 
friendship  which  neither  the  lapse  of  time  nor  a  wide 
dissimilarity  of  opinions  and  pursuits  could  wholly  dis- 
solve. It  does  not  appear  that  they  ever  met  after  they 
had  grown  to  manhood.  But  forty  years  later,  when  the 
voices  of  many  great  orators  were  crying  for  vengeance 
on  the  oppressor  of  India,  the  shy  and  secluded  poet  could 
image  to  himself  Hastings  the  Governor-General  only 
as  the  Hastings  with  whom  he  had  rowed  on  the  Thames, 
and  played  in  the  cloister,  and  refused  to  believe  that  so 
good-tempered  a  fellow  could  have  done  anything  very 
wrong.  His  own  life  had  been  spent  in  praying,  musing, 
and  rhyming  among  the  water-lilies  of  the  Ouse.  He  had 
preserved  in  no  common  measure  the  innocence  of  child- 
hood. His  spirit  had  indeed  been  severely  tried,  but  not 
by  temptations  which  impelled  him  to  any  gross  viola- 
tion of  the  rules  of  social  morality.  He  had  never  been 
attacked  by  combinations  of  powerful  and  deadly  enemies. 
He  had  never  been  compelled  to  make  a  choice  between 
innocenr-e  and  greatness,  between  crime  and  ruin.  Firmly 
as  he  held  in  theory  the  doctrine  of  luiman  depravity,  his 
habits  were  such  that  he  was  unable  to  conceive  how  far 
from  the  path  of  right  even  kind  aiul  noble  natures  may 
be  hurried  by  the  rage  of  conflict  and  the  lust  of  dominion. 

Hastings  had  another  associate  at  Westminster  of 
whom  we  shall  have  ofcasion  to  make  frequent  mention, 
Elijah  Impr-y.  We  know  little  about  their  sfhool  days. 
But,  we  til  ink,  we  may  safely  venture  to  guess  that, 
whenever  Hastings  wished  to  play  any  trick  more  than 
usually  iiMMglify,  hf  hired  Iiuix-y  with  a  tart  or  a  ball  to 
aet  as  fag  in  the  worst  part  of  the  prank. 

Warren  was  distinguished  among  bis  comrades  as  an 
exeellent  swinuner,  Ixiatniaii,  and  scholar.  At  fourteen  ho 
was  first  in  the  examination  for  the  foumlation.  His 
name  in  gilded  letters  on  the  walls  of  the  dormitory  still 
attests  his  victory  over  many  f)lder  competitors.  lie 
stayed  two  years  longi-r  at   tho  school,  and  was   looking 


270  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

forward  to  a  studentship  at  Christ  Church,  when  an 
event  happened  whicli  changed  the  whole  course  of  his 
life.  Howard  Hastings  died,  bequeathing  his  nephew 
to  the  care  of  a  friend  and  distant  rehxtion,  named 
Chiswick.  This  gentleman,  though  he  did  not  absolutely 
refuse  the  charge,  was  desirous  to  rid  himself  of  it  as 
soon  as  possible.  Dr.  Nichols  made  strong  remonstrances 
against  the  cruelty  of  interrupting  the  studies  of  a  youth 
who  seemed  likely  to  be  one  of  the  first  scholars  of  the 
age.  He  even  offered  to  bear  the  expense  of  sending  his 
favorite  pupil  to  Oxford.  But  Mr.  Chiswick  was  in- 
flexible. He  thought  the  years  which  had  already  been 
wasted  on  hexameters  and  pentameters  quite  sufficient. 
He  had  it  in  his  power  to  obtain  for  the  lad  a  writership 
in  the  service  of  the  East  India  Company.  Whether  the 
young  adventurer,  when  once  shipped  off,  made  a  fortune, 
or  died  of  a  liver  complaint,  he  equally  ceased  to  be  a 
burden  to  anybody.  Warren  was  accordingly  removed 
from  Westminster  school,  and  placed  for  a  few  months  at 
a  commercial  academy  to  study  arithmetic  and  book- 
keeping. In  January,  1750,  a  few  days  after  he  had 
completed  his  seventeenth  year,  he  sailed  for  Bengal,  and 
arrived  at  his  destination  in  the  October  following. 
,  Hc'Was  immediately  placed  at  a  desk  in  the  Secretary's 
office  at  Calcutta,  and  labored  there  during  two  years. 
Fort  William  was  then  a  purely  commercial  settlement. 
In  the  south  of  India  the  encroaching  policy  of  Dupleix 
had  transformed  the  servants  of  the  English  Company, 
against  their  will,  into  diplomatists  and  generals.  The 
war  of  the  succession  was  raging  in  the  Carnatic;  and 
the  tide  had  been  suddenly  turned  against  the  French 
by  the  genius  of  young  Kobert  Clivc.  But  in  Bengal  the 
European  settlers,  at  peace  with  the  natives  and  with 
each  other,  were  wholly  occupied  with  ledgers  and  bills  of 
lading. 

After  two  years  passed  in  keeping  accounts  at  Calcutta, 
Hastings  was  sent  up  the  country  in  Cossimbazar,  a  town 
which  lies  on  the  Ilugli,  about  a  mile  from  Murshida- 
bad,  and  which  then  bore  to  Murshidabad  a  relation,  if 
we  may  compare  small  things  with  great,  such  as  the  city 
of  London  bears  to  Westminster.  Murshidabad  was  the 
abode  of  the  prince  who,  by  an  authority  ostensibly  de- 


WAREEN  HASTINGS  271 

rived  from  the  Mogul,  but  really  independent,  ruled  the 
three  great  provinces  of  Bengal,  Orissa,  and  Bahar.  At 
Murshidabad  were  the  court,  the  harem,  and  the  public 
offices.  Cossimbazar  was  a  port  and  a  place  of  trade,  re- 
nowned for  the  quantity  and  excellence  of  the  silks  which 
were  sold  in  its  marts,  and  constantly  receiving  and 
sending  forth  fleets  of  richlj'  laden  barges.  At  this  im- 
portant point,  the  Company  had  established  a  small 
factory  subordinate  to  that  of  Fort  William.  Here, 
during  several  years,  Hastings  was  employed  in  making 
bargains  for  stuffs  with  native  brokers.  While  he  was 
thus  engaged,  Surajah  Dowlah  succeeded  to  the  govern- 
ment, and  declared  war  against  the  English.  The  de- 
fenseless settlement  of  Cossimbazar,  lying  close  to  the 
tyrant's  capital,  was  instantly  seized.  Hastings  was  sent 
a  prisoner  to  Murshidabad,  but  in  consequence  of  the 
humane  intervention  of  \hv  servants  of  the  Dutch  Com- 
pany, was  treated  with  iudulgence.  Meanwhile  the  Nabob 
marched  on  Calcutta ;  the  governor  and  the  commandant 
fled  ;  the  town  and  citadel  were  taken,  and  most  of  the 
English  prisoners  perished  in  the  Black  Hole. 

In  these  events  originated  the  greatness  of  Warren 
Hastings.  The  fugitive  governor  and  his  companions  had 
taken  refuge  on  the  dreary  islet  of  P^ulda,  near  the  mouth 
of  the  Hugli.  They  were  naturally  desirous  to  ol)tain 
full  information  respecting  the  proceedings  of  the  Nabob; 
and  no  person  seemed  so  likely  fo  fwrnisli  it  as  Hastings, 
who  was  a  prisoner  at  large  in  the  immediate  neighbor- 
hood of  the  court.  He  tinis  became  a  diplomatic  agent, 
anfl  soon  established  a  high  character  for  ability  aiul 
resolution.  The  treason  which  at  a  later  period  was  fatal 
to  Surajah  Dowlah  was  already  in  progress;  and  Hastings 
was  admitted  to  the  deliberations  of  the  conspirators. 
But  the  time  for  striking  had  not  arrived.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  postpone  the  execution  of  the  design  ;  and  Has- 
tings, who  was  now  in  extreme  peril,  fleil  to   Fulda. 

Soon  after  his  arrival  at  Fulda,  the  expedition  from 
Madras,  eomrrianded  by  Clive,  ajjpeared  in  the  Iliigli. 
Warren,  young,  intrepid,  and  excited  jiroliably  by  the 
example  of  the  Commander  of  the  Forces  who.  having 
like  himself  been  a  niercjintile  agent  of  the  Company,  bad 
been    turned    by    public    calaniities    into    a   soldier,   deter- 


272  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

mined  to  serve  in  the  ranks.  During  the  early  operations 
of  the  war  he  carried  a  musket.  But  the  quick  eye  of 
Clive  soon  perceived  that  the  head  of  the  young  volunteer 
would  be  more  useful  than  his  arm.  When,  after  the 
battle  of  Plassey,  Meer  Jaffier  was  proclaimed  Nabob  of 
Bengal,  Hastings  was  appointed  to  reside  at  the  court 
of  the  new  prince  as  agent  for  the  Company. 

He  remained  at  Murshidal)ad  till  the  year  1761,  when 
he  became  a  member  of  Council,  and  was  consequently 
forced  to  reside  at  Calcutta.  This  was  during  the  in- 
terval between  Clive's  first  and  second  administration,  an 
interval  which  has  left  on  the  fame  of  the  East  India 
Company  a  stain,  not  wholly  effaced  by  many  years  of 
just  and  humane  government.  Mr.  Vansittart,  the  Gov- 
ernor, was  at  the  head  of  a  new  and  anomalous  empire. 
On  the  one  side  was  a  band  of  English  functionaries, 
daring,  intelligent,  eager  to  be  rich.  On  the  other  side 
was  a  great  native  population,  helpless,  timid,  accustomed 
to  crouch  under  oppression.  To  keep  the  stronger  race 
from  preying  on  the  weaker  was  an  undertaking  which 
tasked  to  the  utmost  the  talents  and  energy  of  Clive. 
Vansittart,  with  fair  intentions,  was  a  feeble  and  inofEfient 
ruler.  The  master  caste,  as  was  natural,  broke  loose  from 
all  restraint;  and  then  was  seen  what  we  believe  to  be 
the  most  frightfid  of  all  spectacles,  the  strength  of  civil- 
ization without  its  mercy.  To  all  other  despotism  there  is 
a  check,  imperfect  indeed,  and  liable  to  gross  abuse,  but 
still  sufficient  to  preser\'e  society  from  the  last  extreme  of 
misery.  A  time  comes  when  the  evils  of  submission  are 
obviously  greater  than  those  of  resistance,  when  fear  itself 
begets  a  sort  of  courage,  when  a  convulsive  burst  of  popu- 
lar rage  and  despair  warns  tyrants  not  to  presume  too 
far  on  the  patience  of  mankind.  But  against  misgovern- 
ment  such  as  then  afflicted  Bengal  it  was  impossible  to 
struggle.  The  superior  intelligence  and  energy  of  the 
dominant  class  made  their  power  irresistible.  A  war  of 
Bengalees  against  Englishmen  was  like  a  war  of  sheep 
against  wolves,  of  men  against  demons.  The  only  pro- 
tection which  the  conquered  could  find  was  in  the  modera- 
tion, the  clemency,  the  enlarged  policy  of  the  conquerors. 
That  protection,  at  a  later  period,  they  found.  But  at 
first  English  power  came  among  them  unaccompanied  by 


WARREX  HASTINGS  273 

English  morality.  There  was  an  interval  between  the 
time  at  which  they  became  our  subjects,  and  the  time  at 
which  we  began  to  reflect  that  we  were  bound  to  discharge 
toward  them  the  duties  of  rulers.  During  that  interval 
the  business  of  a  servant  of  the  Company  was  simply  to 
wrintr  out  of  the  natives  a  hundred  or  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  as  speedily  as  possible,  that  he  might  return 
home  before  his  constitution  had  suffered  from  the  heat, 
to  marry  a  peer's  daughter,  to  buy  rotten  boroughs  in 
Cornwall,  and  to  give  balls  in  St.  James's  Square.  Of  the 
conduct  of  Hastings  at  this  time,  little  is  known ;  but 
the  little  that  is  known,  and  the  circumstance  that  little 
is  known,  must  be  considered  as  honorable  to  him.  He 
could  not  protect  the  natives:  all  that  he  could  do  was  to 
abstain  from  plundering  and  oppressing  them;  and  this 
he  appears  to  have  done.  It  is  certain  that  at  this  time 
he  continued  poor;  and  it  is  equally  certain,  that  by 
cruelty  and  dishonesty  he  might  easily  have  become  rich. 
It  is  certain  that  he  was  never  charged  with  having 
borne  a  share  in  the  worst  abuses  which  then  prevailed; 
and  it  is  almost  equally  certain  that,  if  he  had  borne  a 
share  in  those  abuses,  the  able  and  bitter  enemies  w^ho 
afterward  persecuted  him  would  not  have  failed  to  dis- 
cover and  to  proclaim  his  guilt.  The  keen,  severe,  and 
even  malevolent  scrutiny  to  which  his  whole  public  life 
was  subjected,  a  scrutiny  unparalleled,  as  we  believe,  in 
the  liistory  of  mankind,  is  in  one  respect  advantageous 
to  his  reputation.  It  bmuglit  many  lamentable  blemishes 
to  light;  but  it  entitles  him  to  be  considered  pure  from 
every  blemish  which  has  not  been  broutrlit  to  light. 

The  truth  is  that  tlie  temptations  to  which  so  many 
English  functionaries  yielded  in  the  time  of  Mr.  Vansit- 
tart  were  imt  temptations  addressed  to  the  ruling  passions 
of  Warnn  Hastings.  lie  was  not  S(iueaniish  in  jx'enniary 
transactions;  but  he  was  neither  sordid  nor  rapacious. 
He  wa**  far  too  eiditrlitciied  a  man  to  look  on  a  great 
empire  nu-rely  as  a  lincc;ineer  would  look  on  a  galleon. 
Had  his  heart  been  nni<li  worse  than  it  was,  his  under- 
standirig  woidd  have  j)ns('rved  him  from  tbat  extremity 
of  baseness.  He  was  an  unscrupulous,  j)erliaps  an  un- 
principled statesman;  but  still  In-  was  a  statesman.  an<l 
not   a   freebooter. 


274  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

In  1764  Hastiness  returned  to  England.  He  had 
realized  only  a  very  moderate  fortune;  and  that  moderate 
fortune  was  soon  reduced  to  nothing,  partly  by  his  praise- 
worthy liberality,  and  partly  by  his  mismanagement. 
Toward  his  relations  he  appears  to  have  acted  very  gen- 
erously. The  greater  part  of  his  savings  he  left  in 
Bengal,  hoping  probably  to  obtain  the  high  usury  of 
India.  But  high  usury  and  bad  security  generally  go  to- 
gether; and  Hastings  lost  both  interest  and  principal. 

He  remained  four  years  in  England.  Of  his  life  at  this 
time  very  little  is  known.  But  it  has  been  asserted,  and 
is  highly  probable,  that  liberal  studies  and  the  society  of 
men  of  letters  occupied  a  great  part  of  his  time.  It  is  to 
be  remembered  to  his  honor,  that  in  days  when  the  lan- 
guages of  the  East  were  regarded  by  other  servants  of 
the  Company  merely  as  the  means  of  communicating  with 
weavers  and  money-changers,  his  enlarged  and  accom- 
plished mind  sought  in  Asiatic  learning  for  new  forms 
of  intellectual  enjoyment,  and  for  new  views  of  govern- 
ment and  society.  Perhaps,  like  most  persons  who  have 
paid  much  attention  to  departments  of  knowledge  which 
lie  out  of  the  common  track,  he  was  inclined  to  overrate 
the  value  of  his  favorite  studies.  He  conceived  that  the 
cultivation  of  Persian  literature  might  with  advantage  be 
made  a  part  of  the  liberal  education  of  an  English  gentle- 
man ;  and  he  drew  up  a  plan  with  that  view.  It  is  said 
that  the  University  of  Oxford,  in  which  Oriental  learning 
had  never,  since  the  revival  of  letters,  been  wholly  neg- 
lected, was  to  be  the  seat  of  the  institution  which  he 
contemplated.  An  endowment  was  expected  from  the 
munificence  of  the  Company;  and  professors  thoroughly 
competent  to  interpret  Hafiz  and  Ferdusi  were  to  be  en- 
gaged in  the  East.  Hastings  called  on  Johnson,  with  the 
hope,  as  it  should  seem,  of  interesting  in  this  project  a 
man  who  enjoyed  the  highest  literary  reputation,  and  who 
was  particularly  connected  with  Oxford.  The  interview 
appears  to  have  left  on  Johnson's  mind  a  most  favorable 
impression  of  the  talents  and  attainments  of  his  visitor. 
Long  after,  when  Hastings  was  ruling  the  immense 
population  of  British  India,  the  old  philosopher  wrote  to 
him,  and  referred  in  the  most  courtly  terms,  though  with 
great  dignity,  to  their  short  but  agreeable  intercourse. 


WAEEEX  HASTINGS  275 

Hastings  soon  began  to  look  again  toward  India.  He 
had  little  to  attach  him  to  England ;  and  his  pecuniary 
embarrassments  were  great.  He  solicited  his  old  masters 
the  Directors  for  employment.  They  acceded  to  his  re- 
quest, with  high  compliments  both  to  his  abilities  and  to 
his  integrity,  and  appointed  him  a  Member  of  Council  at 
Madras.  It  would  be  unjust  not  to  mention  that,  though 
forced  to  borrow  money  for  his  outfit,  he  did  not  withdraw 
any  portion  of  the  sum  which  he  had  appropriated  to  the 
relief  of  his  distressed  relations.  In  the  spring  of  1769 
he  embarked  on  board  of  the  Duke  of  Grafton,  and  com- 
menced a  voyage  distinguished  by  incidents  which  might 
furnish  matter  for  a  novel. 

Among  the  passengers  in  the  Duke  of  Grafton  was  a 
German  of  the  name  of  Imhoff.  He  called  himself  a 
baron ;  but  he  was  in  distressed  circumstances,  and  was 
going  out  to  Madras  as  a  portrait-painter,  in  the  hope  of 
picking  up  some  of  the  pagodas  which  were  then  lightly 
got  and  as  lightly  spent  by  the  English  in  India.  The 
baron  was  accompanied  by  his  wife,  a  native,  we  have 
somewhere  read,  of  Archangel.  This  young  woman  who, 
bom  under  the  Arctic  circle',  was  destined  to  play  the 
part  of  a  Queen  under  the  tropic  of  Cancer,  had  an  agree- 
able person,  a  cultivated  mind,  and  manners  in  the  highest 
degree  engaging.  Sbo  despised  lior  husband  heartily, 
and,  as  the  story  which  we  have  to  tell  sufficiently  proves, 
not  without  reason.  Sbo  was  interested  by  the  conversa- 
tion and  flattered  by  the  attentions  of  Hastings.  The 
situation  was  indeed  perilous.  No  place  is  so  propitious 
to  the  formation  eitbcr  of  close  friendships  or  of  deadly 
enmities  as  an  lurliainan.  Tliere  are  very  few  people  who 
do  not  find  a  voyage  which  lasts  several  months  insup- 
portably  dull.  Aiiytbiug  is  weleonie  wliidi  may  break 
that  long  monotony,  a  sail,  a  sliark,  an  alhalmss,  a  man 
overboard,  ^fost  passengers  find  some  resource  in  eating 
twiee  a4  many  meals  as  on  land.  But  flie  great  devices 
for  killing  the  time  are  (|narreling  and  flirting.  The 
facilities  for  both  these  exciting  piirsuits  are  great.  The 
inmates  of  the  ship  are  tbrown  together  far  more  than 
in  any  country-seat  or  boarding-house.  None  can  escape 
from  the  rest  except  by  imprisoning  himself  in  a  cell  in 
whieh  he  can  hardly  turn.     All  food,  all  exercise,  is  taken 


276  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

in  company.  Ceremony  is  to  a  great  extent  banished.  It 
is  every  day  in  the  power  of  a  mischievous  person  to 
inflict  innumerable  annoyances;  it  is  every  day  in  the 
power  of  an  amiable  person  to  confer  little  services.  It 
not  seldom  happens  that  serious  distress  and  danger  call 
forth  in  genuine  beauty  and  deformity  heroic  virtues  and 
abject  vices  which,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  good 
society,  might  remain  during  many  years  unknown  even 
to  intimate  associates.  Under  such  circumstances  met 
Warren  Hastings  and  the  Baroness  ImhoflF,  two  persons 
vphose  accomplishments  would  have  attracted  notice  in 
any  court  of  Europe.  The  gentleman  had  no  domestic 
ties.  The  lady  was  tied  to  a  husband  for  whom  she  had 
no  regard,  and  who  had  no  regard  for  his  own  honor. 
An  attachment  sprang  up,  which  was  soon  strengthened 
by  events  such  as  could  hardly  have  occurred  on  land. 
Hastings  fell  ill.  The  baroness  nursed  him  with  womanly 
tenderness,  gave  him  his  medicines  with  her  ovra  hand, 
and  even  sat  up  in  his  cabin  while  he  slept.  Long  before 
the  Duke  of  Grafton  reached  Madras,  Hastings  was  in 
love.  But  his  love  was  of  a  most  characteristic  descrip- 
tion. Like  his  hatred,  like  his  ambition,  like  all  his 
passions,  it  was  strong,  but  not  impetuous.  It  was  calm, 
deep,  earnest,  patient  of  delay,  unconquerable  by  time. 
ImhoflF  was  called  into  council  by  his  wife  and  his  wife's 
lover.  It  was  arranged  that  the  baroness  should  institute 
a  suit  for  a  divorce  in  the  courts  of  Franconia,  that  the 
baron  should  afford  every  facility  to  the  proceeding,  and 
that,  during  the  years  which  might  elapse  before  the 
sentence  should  be  pronounced,  they  should  continue  to 
live  together.  It  was  also  agreed  that  Hastings  should 
bestow  some  very  substantial  marks  of  gratitude  on  the 
complaisant  husband,  and  should,  when  the  marriage  was 
dissolved,  make  the  lady  his  wife,  and  adopt  the  children 
•whom  she  had  already  borne  to  Imhoff. 

We  are  not  inclined  to  judge  either  Hastings  or  the 
baroness  severely.  There  was  undoubtedly  much  to  ex- 
tenuate their  fault.  But  we  can  by  no  means  concur  with 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Gleig,  who  carries  his  partiality  to  so 
injudicious  an  extreme  as  to  describe  the  conduct  of 
ImhoflF,  conduct  the  baseness  of  which  is  the  best  excuse 
for  the  lovers,  as  "wise  and  judicious." 


WARREN  HASTINGS  277 

At  Madras,  Hastings  found  the  trade  of  the  Company 
in  a  verj'  disorganized  state.  His  own  tastes  would  have 
led  him  rather  to  political  than  to  commercial  pursuits : 
but  he  knew  that  the  favor  of  his  employers  depended 
chiefly  on  their  dividends,  and  that  their  dividends  de- 
pended chiefly  on  the  investment.  He  therefore,  with 
great  judgment,  determined  to  apply  his  vigorous  mind 
for  a  time  to  this  department  of  business,  which  had  been 
much  neglected,  since  the  servants  of  the  Company  had 
ceased  to  be  clerks,  and  had  become  warriors  and  nego- 
tiators. 

In  a  very  few  months  he  effected  an  important  reform. 
The  Directors  notified  to  him  their  high  approbation,  and 
were  so  much  pleased  with  his  conduct  that  they  deter- 
mined to  place  him  at  the  head  of  the  government  of 
Bengal.  Early  in  1772  he  quitted  Fort  St.  George  for 
his  new  post.  The  Imhoffs,  wlio  were  still  man  and  wife, 
accompanied  him,  and  lived  at  Calcutta  "on  the  same  wise 
and  judicious  plan," — we  quote  the  words  of  Mr.  Gleig, — 
which  they  had  already  followed  during  more  than  two 
years. 

When  Hastings  took  his  seat  at  the  head  of  the  council- 
boanl,  Bengal  was  still  governed  according  to  the  system 
which  Clive  had  devised,  a  system  which  was,  perhaps, 
skilfully  contrived  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating  and 
concealing  a  great  revolution,  but  which,  when  that  revo- 
lution was  complete  and  irrevocable,  could  produce  noth- 
ing but  incfjnvenience.  There  were  two  governments,  the 
real  and  the  ostensible.  The  supreme  pnwer  belonged  to 
the  Company,  and  was  in  truth  the  most  despotic  powc^r 
that  can  be  conceived.  The  only  restraint  on  the  English 
masters  of  the  country  was  that  wliich  their  own  justice 
and  hiimanity  imposed  on  them.  'I'here  was  no  constitu- 
tional check  on  their  will,  and  resistance  to  them  was 
utterly  hopeless. 

liut.  though  thus  absolute  in  reality,  the  English  had 
not  yet  assumed  the  style  of  sovereignty.  They  held  their 
territories  as  vassals  of  the  throne  of  Delhi;  they  raised 
their  revenues  as  collectors  ajtpointed  by  the  imperial 
commission;  their  public  seal  was  inscribed  with  the  im- 
perial titles;  and  their  mint  striu-k  only  the  imperial  coin. 

There  was  still   a   nabob  of   J'xiigal,   who  stood   to   the 


278  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

English  rulers  of  his  country  in  the  same  relation  in 
which  Augustulus  stood  to  Odoacer,  or  the  last  Merovin- 
gians to  Charles  Martcl  and  Pepin.  He  lived  at  Murshi- 
dabad,  surrounded  by  princely  magnificence.  He  was 
approached  with  outward  marks  of  reverence,  and  his 
name  was  used  in  public  instruments.  But  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  country  he  had  less  real  share  than  the 
youngest  writer  or  cadet  in  the  Company's  service. 

The  English  council  which  represented  the  Company  at 
Calcutta  was  constituted  on  a  very  different  plan  from 
that  which  has  since  been  adopted.  At  present  the  Gov- 
ernor is,  as  to  all  exeeutive  measures,  absolute.  He  can 
declare  war,  conclude  peace,  appoint  public  functionaries 
or  remove  them,  in  opposition  to  the  unanimous  sense  of 
those  who  sit  with  him  in  coxmcil.  They  are,  indeed, 
entitled  to  know  all  that  is  done,  to  discuss  all  that  is 
done,  to  advise,  to  remonstrate,  to  send  protests  to  En- 
gland. But  it  is  with  the  Governor  that  the  supreme 
power  resides,  and  on  him  that  the  whole  responsibility 
rests.  This  system,  which  was  introduced  by  Mr.  Pitt 
and  Mr.  Dundas  in  spite  of  the  strenuous  opposition  of 
Mr.  Burke,  we  conceive  to  be  on  the  whole  the  best  that 
was  ever  devised  for  the  government  of  a  country  where 
no  materials  can  be  found  for  a  representative  constitu- 
tion. In  the  time  of  Hastings  the  governor  had  only  one 
vote  in  council,  and,  in  case  of  an  equal  division,  a 
casting  vote.  It  therefore  happened  not  unfrequently  that 
he  was  overruled  on  the  gravest  questions;  and  it  was 
possible  that  he  might  be  wholly  excluded,  for  years 
together,  from  the  real  direction  of  public  affairs. 

The  English  functionaries  at  Fort  William  had  as  yet 
paid  little  or  no  attention  to  the  internal  government  of 
Bengal.  The  only  branch  of  politics  about  which  they 
much  busied  themselves  was  negotiation  with  the  native 
princes.  The  police,  the  administration  of  justice,  the  de- 
tails of  the  collection  of  revenue  they  almost  entirely 
neglected.  We  may  remark  that  the  phraseology  of  the 
Company's  servants  still  bears  the  traces  of  this  state  of 
things.  To  this  day  they  always  use  the  word  "political" 
as  synonymous  with  "diplomatic."  We  could  name  a  gen- 
tleman still  living  who  was  described  by  the  highest  au- 
thority as  an  invaluable  public  servant,  eminently  fit  to 


WARREN  HASTINGS  279 

be  at  the  head  of  the  internal  administration  of  a  whole 
presidency,  but  unfortunately  quite  ignorant  of  all  politi- 
cal business. 

The  internal  government  of  Bengal  the  English  rulers 
delegated  to  a  great  native  minister,  who  was  stationed 
at  Murshidabad.  All  military  affairs,  and,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  what  pertains  to  mere  ceremonial,  all  foreign 
affairs,  were  withdrawn  from  his  control;  but  the  other 
departments  of  the  administration  were  entirely  confided 
to  him.  His  own  stipend  amounted  to  near  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  sterling  a  year.  The  personal  allowance 
of  the  nabobs,  amounting  to  more  than  three  hundred 
thousand  pounds  a  year,  passed  through  the  minister's 
hands,  and  was,  to  a  great  extent,  at  his  disposal.  The 
collection  of  the  revenue,  the  administration  of  justice, 
the  maintenance  of  order,  was  left  to  this  high  function- 
ary; and  for  the  exercise  of  his  immense  power  he  was 
responsible  to  none  but  the  British  masters  of  the  coun- 
try. 

A  situation  so  important,  lucrative,  and  splendid  was 
naturally  an  object  of  anil)ition  to  the  ablest  and  most 
powerful  natives.  Clive  had  found  it  difficult  to  decide 
between  conflicting  pretensions.  Two  candidates  stood 
out  prominently  from  the  crowd,  each  of  them  the  repre- 
sentative of  a  race  and  of  a  religion. 

The  one  was  Mahommcd  Reza  Klian,  a  Mussulman  of 
Persian  extraction,  able,  active,  religious  after  the  fashion 
of  his  peoi)le,  and  highly  esteemed  by  them.  In  Enghmd 
he  miglit  jtcrbaps  liiive  been  regarded  as  a  corrujjt  and 
greedy  politician.  But,  tried  by  the  lower  standard  of 
luflian  morality,  he  might  be  considered  as  a  man  of 
integrity  and  honor. 

11  is  coiiipotitor  was  a  Hindu  Brahman  whose  name  has, 
by  a  terrible  and  mchuidioly  event,  l)cen  inseparably  as- 
sociated with  that  of  Warren  Hastings,  the  Maharajah 
Nunromar.  This  man  had  played  an  important  i)art  in 
all  the  revolutions  which,  since  the  time  of  Snrajah 
Dowbih,  bad  taken  plaee  in  IJeiigal.  To  the  consideration 
wliieli  in  that  country  belongs  to  high  and  pure  caste,  he 
added  tlie  weight  wliich  is  derived  from  wealth,  talents, 
and  ex|)<Tienee.  Of  his  moral  eharaeter  it  is  difKcult  to 
give  a  notion  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  human 


280  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

nature  only  as  it  appears  in  our  island.  What  the  Italian 
is  to  the  Englishnuin,  what  the  Hindu  is  to  the  Italian, 
what  the  Bengalee  is  to  other  Hindus,  that  was  Nunco- 
mar  to  other  Bengalees.  The  physical  organization  of 
the  Bengalee  is  feeble  even  to  effeminaey.  He  lives 
in  a  constant  vapor  bath.  His  pursuits  are  sedentary,  his 
limbs  delicate,  his  movements  languid.  During  many 
ages  he  has  been  trampled  upon  by  men  of  bolder  and 
more  hardy  breeds.  Courage,  independence,  veracity,  are 
qualities  to  which  his  constitution  and  his  situation  are 
equally  unfavorable.  His  mind  bears  a  singular  analogy 
to  his  body.  It  is  weak  even  to  helplessness,  for  purposes 
of  manly  resistance;  but  its  suppleness  and  its  tact  move 
the  children  of  sterner  climates  to  admiration  not  unmin- 
gled  with  contempt.  All  those  arts  which  arc  the  natural 
defence  of  the  weak  are  more  familiar  to  this  subtle  race 
than  to  the  Ionian  of  the  time  of  Juvenal,  or  to  the  Jew 
of  the  dark  ages.  What  the  horns  are  to  the  buifalo,  what 
the  paw  is  to  the  tiger,  what  the  sting  is  to  the  bee,  what 
beauty,  according  to  the  old  Greek  song,  is  to  woman, 
deceit  is  to  the  Bengalee.  Large  promises,  smooth  ex- 
cuses, elaborate  tissues  of  circumstantial  falsehood, 
chicanery,  perjury,  forgery,  are  the  weapons,  offensive 
and  defensive,  of  the  people  of  the  Lower  Ganges.  All 
those  millions  do  not  furnish  one  sepoy  to  the  armies  of 
the  Company.  But  as  usurers,  as  money-changers,  as 
sharp  legal  practitioners,  no  class  of  human  beings  can 
bear  a  comparison  with  them.  With  all  his  softness,  the 
Bengalee  is  by  no  means  placable  in  his  enmities  or  prone 
to  pity.  The  pertinacity  with  which  he  adheres  to  his 
purposes  yields  only  to  the  immediate  pressure  of  fear. 
Nor  does  he  lack  a  certain  kind  of  courage  which  is  often 
wanting  in  his  masters.  To  inevitable  evils  he  is  some- 
times found  to  oppose  a  passive  fortitude,  such  as  the 
Stoics  attributed  to  their  ideal  sage.  An  Eurojjean  war- 
rior who  rushes  on  a  battery  of  cannon  with  a  loud 
hurrah  will  sometimes  shriek  under  the  surgeon's  knife, 
and  fall  into  an  agony  of  despair  at  the  sentence  of  death. 
But  the  Bengalee  who  would  see  his  country  overrun,  his 
house  laid  in  ashes,  his  children  murdered  or  dishonored, 
without  having  the  spirit  to  strike  one  blow,  has  yet  been 
known  to  endure  torture  with  the  firmness  of  Mucius,  and 


\YARREN  HASTINGS  281 

to  mount  the  scaflFold  witli  the  steady  step  and  even  pulse 
of  Algernon  Sydney. 

In  Nuncomar,  the  national  character  was  strongly  and 
with  exaggeration  personified.  The  Company's  servants 
had  repeatedly  detected  him  in  the  most  criminal  iil- 
trigues.  On  one  occasion  he  brought  a  false  charge 
against  another  Hindu,  and  tried  to  substantiate  it  by 
producing  forged  documents.  On  another  occasion  it  was 
discovered  that  while  professing  the  strongest  attachment 
to  the  English,  he  was  engaged  in  several  conspiracies 
against  them,  and  in  particular  that  he  was  the  medium 
of  a  correspondence  between  the  court  of  Delhi  and  the 
French  authorities  in  the  Carnatic.  For  these  and  sim- 
ilar practises  he  had  been  long  detained  in  confinement. 
Eut  his  talents  and  ijifluonce  had  not  only  procured  his 
liberation,  but  had  obtained  for  him  a  certain  degree  of 
consideration  even  among  the  British  rulers  of  his 
country. 

Clive  was  extremely  unwilling  to  place  a  Mussulman  at 
the  head  of  the  administration  of  Bengal.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  could  not  briiig  himself  to  confer  immense  power 
on  a  man  to  whom  every  sort  of  villainy  bad  repeatedly 
been  brojight  home.  Therefore,  though  the  nabob,  over 
whom  Xunf'omar  had  by  intrigue  acciuired  great  influence, 
begged  that  the  artful  Hindu  might  be  intrusted  with 
the  government,  Clive,  after  some  hesitation,  decided 
honestly  and  wisely  in  favor  of  Mahommed  lleza  Khan, 
who  liad  held  his  high  oflice  seven  years  when  Hastings 
became  Governor.  An  infant  son  of  Meer  Jaffier  was 
now  nabob;  and  tlu'  guardiaiisbii)  of  the  young  ])rince'3 
person  had  been  confided  to  the  minister. 

Nuncomar,  stimidated  at  once  by  cupidity  and  malice, 
bad  lieen  constantly  attemi)ting  to  undermiiu'  his  suc- 
cessful rival.  Tins  was  not  diflieult.  The  revenues  of 
Bengal,  under  tlie  administration  established  l)y  (/live, 
did  )iot  yield  such  a  surplus  as  bad  been  antieipated  by 
the  Company;  for,  at  that  time,  tin-  most  absunl  notiiuis 
were  entertained  in  Knghiiul  respecting  the  wealth  nl 
India.  Palaces  of  porphyry,  bung  with  the  richest  bro- 
cade, heaps  of  pearls  and  diamonds,  vaults  from  which 
pagodas  and  gold  mohurs  were  n)ea8ure<l  out  hy  the 
bushel,   filled   the   imagination   even   of  men   of  business. 


282  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

Nobody  seemed  to  be  aware  of  what  nevertheless  was  most 
undoubtedly  the  truth,  that  India  was  a  poorer  country 
than  countries  which  in  Europe  are  reckoned  poor,  than 
Ireland,  for  example,  or  than  Portiifjal.  It  was  confidently 
believed  by  lords  of  the  treasury  and  members  for  the  city 
that  Bengal  would  not  only  defray  its  own  charges,  but 
would  afford  an  increased  dividend  to  the  proprietors  of 
India  stock,  and  large  relief  to  the  English  finances. 
These  absurd  expectations  were  disappointed;  and  the 
directors,  naturally  enough,  chose  to  attribute  the  dis- 
appointment rather  to  the  mismanagement  of  Mohammed 
Eeza  Khan  than  to  their  own  ignorance  of  the  country 
intrusted  to  their  care.  They  were  confirmed  in  their 
error  by  the  agents  of  Nuncomar;  for  Nuncomar  had 
agents  even  in  Leadenhall  Street.  Soon  after  Hastings 
reached  Calcutta,  he  received  a  letter  addressed  by  the 
Court  of  Directors,  not  to  the  council  generally,  but  to 
himself  in  particular.  He  was  directed  to  remove  Mahom- 
med  Reza  Khan,  to  arrest  him,  together  with  all  his 
family  and  all  his  partisans,  and  to  institute  a  strict 
inquiry  into  the  whole  administration  of  the  province. 
It  was  added  that  the  Governor  would  do  well  to  avail 
himself  of  the  assistance  of  Nuncomar  in  the  investiga- 
tion. The  vices  of  Nuncomar  were  acknowledged.  But 
even  from  his  vices,  it  was  said,  much  advantage  might 
at  such  a  conjuncture  be  derived ;  and,  though  he  could 
not  safely  be  trusted,  it  might  still  be  proper  to  encourage 
him  by  hopes  of  reward. 

The  Governor  bore  no  good  will  to  Nuncomar.  Many 
years  before,  they  had  known  each  other  at  Murshidabad; 
and  then  a  quarrel  had  risen  between  them  which  all  the 
authority  of  their  superiors  could  hardly  compose.  Widely 
as  they  diii'ered  in  most  points,  they  resembled  each  other 
in  this,  that  both  were  men  of  unforgiving  natures.  To 
Mahommed  Reza  Khan,  on  the  other  hand,  Hastings  had 
no  feelings  of  hostility.  Nevertheless  he  proceeded  to 
execute  the  instructions  of  the  Company  with  an  alacrity 
which  he  never  showed,  except  when  instructions  were  in 
perfect  conformity  with  his  own  views.  He  had,  wisely 
as  we  think,  determined  to  get  rid  of  the  system  of  double 
government  in  Bengal.  The  orders  of  the  directors  fur- 
nished him  with  the  means  of  effecting  his  purpose,  and 


WARREX  HASTINGS  283 

dispensed  him  from  the  necessity  of  discussing  the  matter 
with  his  council.  He  took  his  measures  with  his  usual  vigor 
and  dexterity.  At  midnight,  the  palace  of  Mohammed 
Reza  Khan  at  Murshidabad  was  surrounded  by  a  battalion 
of  sepoys.  The  minister  was  roused  from  his  slumbers, 
and  informed  that  he  was  a  prisoner.  With  the  Mussul- 
man gravity,  he  bent  his  head  and  submitted  himself  to 
the  will  of  God.  He  fell  not  alone.  A  chief  named 
Schitab  Roy  had  been  intrusted  with  the  government  of 
Bahar.  His  valor  and  his  attachment  to  the  English  had 
more  than  once  been  signally  proved.  On  that  memorable 
day  on  which  the  people  of  Patna  saw  from  their  walls 
the  whole  army  of  the  Mogul  scattered  by  the  little  band 
of  Captain  Knox,  the  voice  of  the  British  conquerors  as- 
signed the  palm  of  gallantry  to  the  brave  Asiatic.  "I 
never,"  said  Knox,  when  he  introduced  Schitab  Roy,  cov- 
ered with  blood  and  dust,  to  the  English  functionaries 
assembled  in  the  factory,  "I  never  saw  a  native  fight  so 
before."  Schitab  Roy  was  involved  in  the  ruin  of  Moham- 
med Reza  Khan,  was  removed  from  office,  and  was  placed 
under  arrest.  The  members  of  the  council  received  no 
intimation  of  these  measures  till  the  prisoners  were  on 
their  road  to  Calcutta. 

The  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the  minister  was  post- 
poned on  different  ijrctcnst-s.  He  was  detained  in  an 
easy  confinement  during  many  months.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  great  revolution  which  Hastings  had  planned 
was  carried  into  effect.  The  office  of  minister  was  abol- 
ished. The  internal  administration  was  transferred  to 
the  servants  of  tlie  (^)Inpally.  A  system,  a  very  imperfect 
system,  it  is  true,  of  civil  and  criminal  justice,  under 
English  superintendence,  was  establislied.  The  nal)()b 
was  no  longer  to  have  even  an  ostensilile  share  in  the 
government;  but  he  was  still  to  receive  a  considerable 
annual  allowance,  and  to  be  surrounded  with  the  state  of 
sovereignty.  As  he  was  an  infant,  it  was  net-essary  to 
provide  guardians  for  his  person  and  property.  His 
jierson  was  intrusted  to  a  lady  of  bis  fatlier's  harem, 
known  by  the  name  of  Munny  Begum.  Tbe  office  of 
treasurer  of  the  household  was  bestowe<l  on  a  son  of 
Nuneomar,  named  (loordas.  Xuneomar's  services  were 
wantcf],  yet  he  coidrl   not  safely  be  trusted  with  power; 


284  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  Hastings  thought  it  a  master-stroke  of  policy  to  re- 
ward the  able  and  unprincipled  parent  by  promoting  the 
inoffensive  child. 

The  revolution  completed,  the  double  government 
dissolved,  the  Company  installed  in  the  full  sovereignty 
of  Bengal,  Hastings  had  no  motive  to  treat  the  late  min- 
isters with  rigor.  Their  trial  had  been  put  off  on  various 
pleas  till  the  new  organization  was  complete.  They  were 
then  brought  before  a  committee,  over  which  the  Governor 
presided.  Schitab  Roy  was  speedily  acquitted  with  honor.  A 
formal  apology  was  made  to  him  for  the  restraint  to  which 
he  had  been  subjected.  All  the  Eastern  marks  of  respect 
were  bestowed  on  him.  He  was  clothed  in  a  robe  of  state, 
presented  with  jewels  and  with  a  richly  harnessed  ele- 
phant, and  sent  back  to  his  government  at  Patna.  But  his 
health  had  suffered  from  confinement;  his  high  spirit  had 
been  cruelly  wounded ;  and  soon  after  his  liberation  he 
died  of  a  broken  heart. 

The  innocence  of  Mohanuned  Reza  Khan  was  not  so 
clearly  established.  But  the  Governor  was  not  disposed 
to  deal  harshly.  After  a  long  hearing,  in  which  Nunco- 
mar  appeared  as  the  accuser,  and  displayed  both  the  art 
and  the  inveterate  rancor  which  distinguished  him,  Has- 
tings pronounced  that  the  charges  had  not  been  made  out, 
and  ordered  the  fallen  minister  to  be  set  at  liberty. 

Nuncomar  had  purposed  to  destroy  the  Mussulman  ad- 
ministration, and  to  rise  on  its  ruin.  Both  his  malevo- 
lence and  his  cupidity  had  been  disappointed.  Hastings 
had  made  him  a  tool,  had  used  him  for  the  purpose  of 
aceomi)lishiiig  the  transfer  of  the  government  from 
Murshidabad  to  Calcutta,  from  native  to  Eurojiean 
hands.  The  rival,  the  enemy,  so  long  envied,  so  implac- 
ably persecuted,  had  been  dismissed  unhurt.  The  situation 
so  long  and  ardently  desired  had  been  abolished.  It  was 
natural  that  the  Governor  should  be  from  that  time  an 
object  of  the  most  intense  hatred  to  the  vindictive  Brah- 
man. As  yet,  however,  it  was  necessary  to  suppress  such 
feelings.  The  time  was  coming  when  that  long  animosity 
was  to  end  in  a  desperate  and  deadly  struggle. 

In  the  mean  time,  Hastings  was  compelled  to  turn  his 
attention  to  foreign  affairs.  The  object  of  his  diplomacy 
was  at  this  time  simply  to  get  money.     The  finances  of 


WARREN  HASTINGS  285 

his  government  were  in  an  embarrassed  state;   and  this 
embarrassment    he   was    determined    to    relieve   by    sonie 
means,  fair  or  foul.     The  principle  which  directed  all  his 
dealings  with  his  neighbors  is  fully  expressed  by  the  old 
motto  of  one  of  the  great  predatory  families  of  Teviotdale, 
"Thou  shalt  want  ere  I  want."     He  seems  to  have  laid  it 
down,  as  a  fundamental  proposition  which  could  not  be 
disputed,  that,  when  he  had  not  as  many  lacs  of  rupees 
as  the  public  service  required,  he  was  to  take  them  from 
anybody  who  had.     One  thing,  indeed,  is  to  be  said   in 
excuse   for   him.      The   pressure   applied   to   him   by   his 
emi)loyers  at  home  was  such  as  only  the  highest  virtue 
could  have  withstood,  such  as  left  him  no  choice  except 
to  commit  great  wrongs,  or  to  resign  his  high  post,  and 
with  that  post  all  his  hopes  of  fortune  and  distinction. 
The  directors,  it  is  true,  never  enjoined  or  applauded  any 
crime.     Far    from    it.      Whoever   examines    their    letters 
written  at  that  time  will  find  there  many  just  and  humane 
sentiments,  many  excellent  precepts,  in  short,  an  admir- 
able code  of  political   ethics.     But  every  exhortation   is 
modified  or  nullified  by  a  demand  for  money.     "Govern 
leniently,   and   send  more  money;   practise  strict  justice 
and    moderation    toward    nciglil)()ring    powers,    and    send 
more  money;"  this  is  in  truth  the  sum  of  almost  all  the 
instruc-tions  that  Hastings  ever  received  from  home.    Now 
these   instructions,   being   interpreted,   mean   simply,    "Be 
the  father  and  the  oppressor  of  the  people;  be  just  and 
unjust,    moderate    and    rapacious."      Tlie    directors    dealt 
with  India  as  the  church,   in   the   good   old   times,  dealt 
with   a  heretic.     They   delivered   the  victim   over   to   the 
executions,  with  an  earnest  recjuest  that  all  possible  ten- 
derness  might   be    shown.      We   by   no   means    accuse    or 
suspect  those  who  framed  these  despatches  of  hypocrisy. 
It  is  probable  that,   writing  fifteen   thousand   niih'S   from 
the  place  where  their  orders  were  to  be  carried  into  ellect, 
they  never  pereeivcd  tlu^  gross  inconsistency  of  which  tliey 
wer(^  guilty.     I'.ut  the  inconsistency  was  at  once  manifest 
to  their  lieutenant  at  Calcutta,  who,  with  an  emi)ty  treas- 
ury, with  an   unpaid  army,  with   liis  own  salary  often   in 
arrear,    with    deficient    crops,    with    government    tenants 
daily  miming  away,  was  calh'd  upon  to  remit  home  an- 
other half  million  witlioiit  fiiil.     Hastings  saw  that  it  was 


286  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  disregard  either  the  moral 
discourses  or  the  pecuniary  requisitions  of  his  employers. 
Being  forced  to  disobey  them  in  something,  he  had  to 
consider  what  kind  of  disobedience  they  would  most 
readily  pardon;  and  he  correctly  judged  that  the  safest 
course  would  be  to  neglect  the  sermons  and  to  find  the 
rupees. 

A  mind  so  fertile  as  his,  and  so  little  restrained  by 
conscientious  scruples,  speedily  discovered  several  modes 
of  relieving  the  financial  embarrassments  of  the  govern- 
ment. The  allowance  of  the  Nabob  of  Bengal  was  reduced 
at  a  stroke  from  three  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
pounds  a  year  to  half  that  sum.  The  Company  had  bound 
itself  to  pay  near  three  hundred  thousand  pounds  a  year 
to  the  great  Mogul,  as  a  mark  of  homage  for  the  provinces 
which  he  had  intrusted  to  their  care;  and  they  had  ceded 
to  him  the  districts  of  Corah  and  Allahabad.  On  the  plea 
that  the  Mogul  was  not  really  independent,  but  merely 
a  tool  in  the  hands  of  others,  Hastings  determined  to 
retract  these  concessions.  He  accordingly  declared  that 
the  English  would  pay  no  more  tribute,  and  sent  troops 
to  occupy  Allahabad  and  Corah.  The  situation  of  these 
places  was  such  that  there  would  be  little  advantage  and 
great  expense  in  retaining  them.  Hastings,  who  wanted 
money  and  not  territory,  determined  to  sell  them.  A  pur- 
chaser was  not  wanting.  The  rich  province  of  Oude  had, 
in  the  general  dissolution  of  the  Mogul  Empire,  fallen  to 
the  share  of  the  great  Mussulman  house  by  which  it  is 
still  governed.  About  twenty  years  ago,  this  house,  by 
the  permission  of  the  British  government,  assumed  the 
royal  title;  but,  in  the  time  of  Warren  Hastings,  such  an 
assumption  would  have  been  considered  by  the  Moham- 
medans of  India  as  a  monstrous  impiety.  The  Prince  of 
Oude,  though  he  held  the  power,  did  not  venture  to  use 
the  style  of  sovereignty.  To  the  appellation  of  Nabob 
or  Viceroy  he  added  that  of  Vizier  of  the  monarchy  of 
Hindustan,  just  as  in  the  last  century  the  Electors  of 
Saxony  and  Brandenburg,  though  independent  of  the 
Emperor,  and  often  in  arms  against  him,  were  proud  to 
style  themselves  his  Grand  Chamberlain  and  Grand  Mar- 
shal. Sujah  Dowlah,  then  Nabob  Vizier,  was  on  excellent 
terms    with    the    English.      He    had    a    large    treasure. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  287 

Allahabad  and  Corah  were  so  situated  that  they  might 
be  of  use  to  him  and  could  be  of  none  to  the  Company. 
The  buyer  and  seller  soon  came  to  an  understanding;  and 
the  provinces  which  had  been  torn  from  the  Mogul  were 
made  over  to  the  government  of  Oude  for  about  half  a 
million  sterling. 

But  there  was  another  matter  still  more  important  to 
be  settled  by  the  Vizier  and  the  Governor.  The  fate  of  a 
brave  people  was  to  be  decided.  It  was  decided  in  a  man- 
ner whidi  has  left  a  lasting  stain  on  the  fame  of  Hastings 
and  of  England. 

The  people  of  Central  Asia  had  always  been  to  the  in- 
habitants of  India  what  the  warriors  of  the  German 
forests  were  to  the  subjects  of  tlie  decaying  monarchy  of 
Rome.  The  dark,  slender,  and  timid  Hindu  slirank  from 
a  conflict  with  the  strong  muscle  and  resolute  spirit  of 
the  fair  race,  which  dwelt  beyond  the  passes.  There  is 
reason  to  believe  that,  at  a  period  anterior  to  the  dawn 
of  regular  history,  the  people  who  spoke  the  rich  and 
flexibk'  Sanscrit  came  from  regions  lying  far  beyond 
the  Hyphasis  and  the  Ilystaspes,  and  imposed  their  yoke 
on  the  children  of  the  soil.  It  is  certain  that,  during  the 
last  ten  centuries,  a  succession  of  invaders  dc^scended  from 
the  west  on  Hindustan;  nor  was  the  course  of  concpu'st 
ever  turned  back  towards  the  setting  sun,  till  that  mem- 
orable campaign  in  wliich  the  cross  of  Saint  George  was 
planted  on  the  walls  of  (ihizni. 

The  Emperors  of  Hindustan  themselves  came  from  the 
other  side  of  the  great  mountain  ridge;  and  it  had  al- 
ways been  their  practise  to  recruit  their  army  from  the 
hardy  and  valiant  race  from  which  their  own  illustrious 
house  sprang.  Among  the  military  adventurers  who  were 
allured  to  the  Mogul  standards  from  the  neighborhood 
of  KaViul  and  Kandahar,  were  conspicuous  several  gallant 
bands,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Kohillas.  Their  Services 
had  been  n.'warded  with  large  tracts  of  land,  fiefs  of  the 
spear,  if  we  may  use  an  expression  drawn  from  an  analo- 
gous state  of  things,  in  tliat  fertile  plain  through  which  the 
Ramgunga  flows  from  the  snowy  heights  of  Kumaon  to 
join  the  franges.  In  the  general  cf)nfusion  which  fol- 
lowed the  death  of  Aurungzebc.  the  warlike  colony  became 
virtually   independent.     Tlir    Robillas  were  distinguished 


288  liiSTOKlCAL  ESSAYS 

from  the  other  inhabitants  of  India  by  a  peculiarly  fair 
complexion.  They  were  more  honorably  distinguished  by 
courage  in  war,  and  by  skill  in  the  arts  of  peace.  While 
anarchy  raged  from  Lahore  to  Cape  Comorin,  their  little 
territory  enjoyed  the  blessings  of  repose  under  the 
guardianship  of  valor.  Agriculture  and  commerce  flour- 
ished among  them;  nor  were  they  negligent  of  rhetoric 
and  poetry.  Many  persons  now  living  have  heard  aged 
men  talk  with  regret  of  the  golden  days  when  the  Afghan 
princes  ruled  in  the  vale  of  Eohilcund. 

Sujah  Dowlah  had  set  his  heart  on  adding  this  rich 
district  to  his  own  principality.  Eight,  or  show  of  right, 
he  had  absolutely  none.  His  claim  was  in  no  respect 
better  founded  than  that  of  Catherine  to  Poland,  or  that 
of  the  Bonaparte  family  to  Spain.  The  Eohillas  held 
their  country  by  exactly  the  same  title  by  which  he  held 
his,  and  had  governed  their  country  far  better  than  his 
had  ever  been  governed.  Nor  were  they  a  people  whom  it 
was  perfectly  safe  to  attack.  Their  land  was  indeed  an 
open  plain,  destitute  of  natural  defenses;  but  their  veins 
were  full  of  the  high  blood  of  Afghanistan.  As  soldiers, 
they  had  not  the  steadiness  which  is  seldom  found  except 
in  company  with  strict  discipline;  but  their  impetuous 
valor  had  been  proved  on  many  fields  of  battle.  It  was 
said  that  their  chiefs,  when  united  by  common  peril, 
could  bring  eighty  thousand  men  into  the  field.  Sujah 
Dowlah  had  himself  seen  them  fight,  and  wisely  shrank 
from  a  conflict  with  them.  There  was  in  India  one  army, 
and  only  one,  against  which  even  these  proud  Caucasian 
tribes  could  not  stand.  It  had  been  abundantly  proved 
that  neither  tenfold  odds,  nor  the  martial  ardor  of  the 
boldest  Asiatic  nations,  could  avail  aught  against  English 
science  and  resolution.  Was  it  possible  to  induce  the 
Governor  of  Bengal  to  let  out  to  hire  the  irresistible 
energies  of  the  imperial  people,  the  skill  against  which 
the  ablest  chiefs  of  Hindustan  were  helpless  as  infants, 
the  discipline  which  had  so  often  triumphed  over  the 
frantic  struggles  of  fanaticism  and  despair,  the  uncon- 
querable British  courage  which  is  never  so  sedate  and 
stubborn  as  towards  the  close  of  a  doubtful  murderous 
day? 

This    was    what    the   Nabob    Vizier    asked,    and    what 


WARREN  HASTINGS  289 

Hastings  granted.  A  bargain  was  soon  struck.  Each  of 
the  negotiators  had  what  the  other  wanted.  Hastings 
was  in  need  of  funds  to  carry  on  the  government  of 
Bengal,  and  to  send  remittances  to  London ;  and  Sujah 
Dowlah  had  an  ample  revenue.  Sujah  Dowlah  was  bent 
on  subjugating  the  Rohillas;  and  Hastings  had  at  his 
disposal  the  only  force  by  which  the  Rohillas  could  be 
subjugated.  It  was  agreed  that  an  English  army  should 
be  lent  to  the  Nabob  Vizier,  and  that,  for  the  loan,  he 
should  pay  four  hundred  thousand  pounds  sterling,  be- 
sides defraying  all  the  charges  of  the  troops  while  em- 
ployed in  his  service. 

"I  really  cannot  see,"  says  the  Reverend  Mr.  Gleig, 
"upon  what  grounds,  either  of  political  or  moral  justice, 
this  proposition  deserves  to  be  stigmatized  as  infamous." 
If  we  understand  the  meaning  of  words,  it  is  infamous 
to  commit  a  wicked  action  for  hire,  and  it  is  wicked  to 
engage  in  war  without  provocation.  In  this  particular 
war,  scarcely  one  aggravating  circumstance  was  wanting. 
The  object  of  the  Rohilla  war  was  this,  to  deprive  a  large 
population,  who  had  never  done  us  the  least  harm,  of  a 
good  government,  and  to  place  them,  against  their  will, 
under  an  execrably  bad  one.  N^y,  even  this  is  not  all. 
England  now  descended  far  below  the  level  even  of  those 
petty  German  princes  who,  about  the  same  time,  sold  us 
troops  to  fight  the  Americans.  The  hussar-mongers  of 
Hesse  and  Anspach  hatl  at  least  the  assurance  that  the 
expeditions  on  which  their  soldiers  were  to  be  employed 
would  be  f'oiiduftcd  in  conformity  with  tlie  buiiuuic  rules 
of  civilized  warfare.  Was  the  Rohilhi  w;ir  likely  to  lie  so 
conducted?  Did  the  Governor  stipulate  that  it  should 
be  so  conducted?  He  well  knew  what  Indian  warfare 
was.  He  well  knew  that  the  jxiwer  which  lie  covenanted 
to  put  into  Sujah  Dowlah's  hands  would,  in  all  jirob- 
ability,  bo  atrocif)usly  abiised ;  and  he  re<|nired  no  ginir- 
antee,  no  promise  that  it  slutuld  not  be  so  abused.  He 
did  not  even  reserve  to  himself  the  right  of  withdrawing 
his  aid  in  case  of  abuse,  however  gross.  Mr.  (ileig  re- 
peats Major  Scott's  absurd  Jilea,  that  Hastings  was  justi- 
fied in  letting  out  English  troops  to  slaughter  the  Rohillas. 
because  thi'  Rohillas  were  not  of  Indian  race,  Init  a  colony 
from   a  distant  country.      What    were   the  English   them- 


290  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

selves?  Was  it  for  them  to  proclaim  a  cri>sade  for  the 
expulsion  of  all  intruders  from  the  countries  watered  by 
the  Ganges?  Did  it  lie  in  their  mouths  to  contend  that  a 
foreign  settler  who  establishes  an  empire  in  India  is  a 
caput  lupinum?  What  would  they  have  said  if  any  other 
power  had,  on  such  a  ground,  attacked  Madras  or  Cal- 
cutta, without  the  slightest  provocation  ?  Such  a  defense 
was  wanting  to  make  the  infamy  of  the  transaction  com- 
plete. The  atrocity  of  the  crime  and  the  hypocrisy  of  the 
apology  are  worthy  of  each  other. 

One  of  the  three  brigades  of  which  the  Bengal  army 
consisted  was  sent  under  Colonel  Champion  to  join  Sujah 
Dowlah's  forces.  The  Rohillas  expostulated,  entreated, 
offered  a  large  ransom,  but  in  vain.  They  then  resolved 
to  defend  themselves  to  the  last.  A  bloody  battle  was 
fought.  "The  enemy,"  says  Colonel  Champion,  "gave 
proof  of  a  good  share  of  military  knowledge;  and  it  is 
impossible  to  describe  a  more  obstinate  firmness  of  reso- 
lution than  they  displayed."  The  dastardly  sovereign  of 
Oude  fled  from  the  field.  The  English  were  left  unsup- 
ported; but  their  fire  and  their  charge  were  irresistible. 
It  was  not,  however,  till  the  most  distinguished  chiefs  had 
fallen,  fighting  bravely  at  the  head  of  their  troops,  that 
the  Rohilla  ranks  gave  way.  Then  the  Nabob  Vizier  and 
his  rabble  made  their  appearance,  and  hastened  to  plun- 
der the  camp  of  the  valiant  enemies,  whom  they  had  never 
dared  to  look  in  the  face.  The  soldiers  of  the  Company, 
trained  in  an  exact  discipline,  kept  unbroken  order,  while 
the  tents  were  pillaged  by  these  worthless  allies.  But 
many  voices  were  heard  to  exclaim,  "We  have  had  all  the 
fighting,  and  those  rogues  are  to  have  all  the  profit." 

Then  the  horrors  of  Indian  war  were  let  loose  on  the 
fair  valleys  and  cities  of  Rohilcund.  The  whole  country 
was  in  a  blaze.  More  than  a  hundred  thousand  people 
fled  from  their  homes  to  pestilential  jungles,  preferring 
famine,  and  fever,  and  the  haunts  of  tigers,  to  the  tyranny 
of  him,  to  whom  an  English  and  a  Christian  government 
had,  for  shameful  lucre,  sold  their  substance,  and  their 
blood,  and  the  honor  of  their  wives  and  daughters. 
Colonel  Champion  remonstrated  with  the  Nabob  Vizier, 
and  sent  strong  representations  to  Fort  William;  but  the 
Governor  had  made  no  conditions  as  to  the  mode  in  which 


WARREN  HASTINGS  291 

the  war  was  to  be  carried  on.  He  had  troubled  himself 
about  nothing  but  his  forty  lacs;  and,  though  he  might 
disapprove  of  Sujah  Dowlah's  wanton  barbarity,  he  did 
not  think  himself  entitled  to  interfere,  except  by  offering 
advice.  This  delicacy  excites  the  admiration  of  the 
reverend  biographer.  "Mr.  Hastings,"  he  says,  "could  not 
himself  dictate  to  the  Nabob,  nor  permit  the  commander 
of  the  Company's  troops  to  dictate  how  the  war  was  to  be 
carried  on."  No,  to  be  sure,  Mr.  Hastings  had  only  to 
put  down  by  main  force  the  brave  struggles  of  innocent 
men  fighting  for  their  liberty.  Their  military  resistance 
crushed,  his  duties  ended;  and  he  had  then  only  to  fold 
his  arms  and  look  on,  while  their  villages  were  burned, 
their  children  butchered,  and  their  women  violated.  Will 
Mr.  Gleig  seriously  maintain  tliis  opinion?  Is  any  rule 
more  plain  than  this,  that  whoever  voluntarily  gives  to 
another  irresistible  power  over  human  beings,  is  bound  to 
take  order  that  such  power  shall  not  be  barbarously 
abused?  But  we  beg  pardon  of  our  readers  for  arguing 
a  point  60  clear. 

We  hasten  to  the  end  of  this  sad  and  disgraceful  story. 
The  war  ceased.  The  finest  population  in  India  was  sub- 
jected to  a  greedy,  cowardly,  cruel  tyrant.  Commerce 
and  agriculture  Innguislied.  The  rich  province  which  had 
tempted  the  cupidity  of  Sujah  Dowlah  became  the  most 
miserable  part  even  of  his  misernblc  dominions.  Yet  is 
the  injured  nation  not  extinct.  At  long  intervals  gleams 
of  its  ancient  .spirit  have  flashed  forth;  and  even  at  this 
day,  valfir,  and  sclf-rcspcct,  and  a  chivalrous  feeling  rare 
among  Asiatics,  and  a  liitter  remembrance  of  the  great 
crime  of  England,  distinguish  that  noble  Afghan  race. 
To  this  day  tlicy  are  regarded  as  the  best  of  all  sepoys  at 
tbe  cvdd  steel;  and  it  was  very  recently  remarked,  by  one 
who  had  enjoyed  great  opportunities  of  observation,  that 
the  oidy  niitiv<'s  of  India  tf)  whom  the  word  "geiitleinan" 
can  with  perfect  propriety  be  applied  are  to  be  found 
among  the  Rohillas. 

Whatever  we  may  think  of  the  mf)rality  of  Hastings,  it 
cannot  be  denied  tbat  the  financial  results  of  his  policy 
did  honor  to  his  talents.  In  less  than  two  years  after  he 
assumed  the  gnviTiiinent,  he  had,  without  iini)osing  any 
additional  burdens  on  the  people  subject  to  his  authority^ 


292  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

added  about  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  to 
the  annual  income  of  the  Company,  besides  procuring 
about  a  million  in  ready  money.  He  had  also  relieved 
the  finances  of  Bengal  from  military  expenditure,  amount- 
ing to  near  a  quarter  of  a  million  a  year,  and  had  thrown 
that  charge  on  the  Nabob  of  Oude.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  this  was  a  result  which,  if  it  had  been  obtained 
by  honest  means,  would  have  entitled  him  to  the  warmest 
gratitude  of  his  country,  and  which,  by  whatever  means 
obtained,  proved  that  he  possessed  great  talents  for  ad- 
ministration. 

Ill  the  meantime,  Parliament  had  been  engaged  in  long 
and  grave  discussions  on  Asiatic  affairs.  The  ministry  of 
Lord  North,  in  the  session  of  1773,  introduced  a  measure 
which  made  a  considerable  change  in  the  constitution 
of  the  Indian  government.  This  law,  known  by  the  name 
of  the  Regulating  Act,  provided  that  the  presidency  of 
Bengal  should  exercise  a  control  over  the  other  possessions 
of  the  Company ;  that  the  chief  of  that  presidency  should 
be  styled  Governor-General;  that  he  should  be  assailed  by 
four  Councilors;  and  that  a  supreme  court  of  judicature, 
consisting  of  a  chief  justice  and  three  inferior  judges, 
should  be  established  at  Calcutta.  This  court  was  made 
independent  of  the  Governor-General  and  Council,  and 
was  intrusted  with  a  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction  of 
immense,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  undefined  extent. 

The  Governor-General  and  Councilors  were  named  in 
the  act,  and  were  to  hold  their  situations  for  five  years. 
Hastings  was  to  be  the  first  Governor-General.  One  of 
the  four  new  Councilors,  Mr.  Barwell,  an  experienced 
servant  of  the  Company,  was  then  in  India.  The  other 
three.  General  Clavering,  Mr.  Monson,  and  Mr.  Francis, 
were  sent  out  from  England. 

The  ablest  of  the  new  Councilors  was,  beyond  all  doubt, 
Philip  Francis.  His  acknowledged  compositions  prove 
that  he  possessed  considerable  eloquence  and  information. 
Several  years  passed  in  the  public  offices  had  formed  him 
to  habits  of  business.  His  enemies  have  never  denied 
that  he  had  a  fearless  and  manly  spirit;  and  his  friends, 
we  are  afraid,  must  acknowledge  that  his  estimate  of 
himself  was  extravagantly  high,  that  his  temper  was  ir- 
ritable, that  his  deportment  was  often  rude  and  petulant. 


WAREEN  HASTINGS  293 

and  that  his  hatred  was  of  intense  bitterness  and  of  long 
duration. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  mention  this  eminent  man 
without  adverting  for  a  moment  to  the  question  which 
his  name  at  once  suggests  to  every  mind.  Was  he  the 
author  of  the  Letters  of  Junius?  Our  own  firm  belief  is 
that  he  was.  The  evidence  is,  we  think,  such  as  would 
support  a  verdict  in  a  civil,  nay,  in  a  criminal  proceeding. 
The  handwriting  of  Junius  is  the  very  peculiar  hand- 
writing of  Francis,  slightly  disguised.  As  to  the  position, 
pursuits,  and  connections  of  Junius,  the  following  are  the 
most  important  facts  which  can  be  considered  as  clearly 
proved :  first,  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the  technical 
forms  of  the  secretary  of  state's  office;  secondly,  that  he 
was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  business  of  the  war- 
office;  thirdly,  that  he,  during  the  year  1770,  attended 
debates  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  took  notes  of  speeches, 
particularly  of  the  speeches  of  Lord  Chatham;  fourthly, 
that  he  bitterly  resented  the  appointment  of  Mr.  Cluunicr 
to  the  place  of  deputy  secretary-at-war ;  fifthly,  that  he  was 
bound  by  some  strong  tie  to  the  first  Lord  Holland.  Now, 
Francis  passed  some  years  in  the  secretary  of  state's  office. 
He  was  subsequently  chief  clerk  of  the  war-office.  He 
repeatedly  mciitioTied  that  he  had  himself,  in  1770,  heard 
speeches  of  Lcjrd  Chatham;  and  some  of  these  speeches 
were  actually  printed  from  his  notes.  He  resigned  his 
clerkship  at  the  war-office  from  resentment  at  the  aji- 
pointment  of  Mr.  Chamier.  It  was  by  Lord  Holland  that 
he  was  first  introduced  into  the  public,  service.  Now, 
here  are  five  iriarks,  all  of  which  ouf^ht  to  be  found  in 
Junius.  'J'bey  are  all  five;  found  in  Francis.  We  do  not 
believe  that  more  than  two  of  them  can  be  found  in 
any  other  person  whatever.  If  tliis  arguiiK'nt  does  not 
settle  the  question,  there  is  an  end  of  all  reasoning  on 
circumstantial  evidence. 

The  internal  evidence  seems  to  us  to  fioint  the  same 
way.  The  style  of  Francis  bears  a  strong  resemblance 
to  that  of  Junius;  nor  are  we  disposed  to  admit,  what  is 
generally  taken  for  granted,  that  the  acknowledged  com- 
positions of  Francis  are  very  decidedly  inferior  to  the 
anonymous  letters.  The  argument  from  inferiority,  at 
all  events,  is  one  which  may  be  urged  with  at  least  equal 


294  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

force  against  every  claimant  that  has  ever  been  men- 
tioned, with  the  single  exception  of  Burke;  and  it  would 
he  a  waste  of  time  to  prove  that  Burke  was  not  Junius. 
And  what  conclusion,  after  all,  can  be  drawn  from  mere 
inferiority  ?  Every  writer  must  produce  his  best  work ; 
and  the  interval  between  his  best  work  and  his  second 
best  work  may  be  very  wide  indeed.  Nobody  will  say  that 
the  best  letters  of  Junius  are  more  decidedly  superior 
to  the  acknowledged  works  of  Francis  than  three  or  four  of 
Corneille's  tragedies  to  the  rest,  than  three  or  four  of  Ben 
Jonson's  comedies  to  the  rest,  than  the  Pilgrim's  Progress 
to  the  other  works  of  Bunyan,  than  Don  Quixote  to  the 
other  works  of  Cervantes.  Nay,  it  is  certain  that  the 
Man  in  the  Mask,  whoever  he  may  have  been,  was  a  most 
unequal  writer.  To  go  no  further  than  the  letters  which 
bear  the  signature  of  Junius ;  the  letter  to  the  king,  and 
the  letters  to  Home  Tooke,  have  little  in  common,  except 
the  asperity ;  and  asperity  was  an  ingredient  seldom  want- 
ing either  in  the  writings  or  in  the  speeches  of  Francis. 

Indeed  one  of  the  strongest  reasons  for  believing  that 
Francis  was  Junius  is  the  moral  resemblance  between  the 
two  men.  It  is  not  difficult,  from  the  letters  which,  under 
various  signatures,  are  known  to  have  been  written  by 
Junius,  and  from  his  dealings  with  Woodfall  and  others, 
to  form  a  tolerably  correct  notion  of  his  character.  He 
was  clearly  a  man  not  destitute  of  real  patriotism  and 
magnanimity,  a  man  whose  vices  were  not  of  a  sordid 
kind.  But  he  must  also  have  been  a  man  in  the  highest 
degree  arrogant,  and  insolent,  a  man  prone  to  malevolence, 
and  prone  to  the  error  of  mistaking  his  malevolence  for 
public  virtue.  "Doest  thou  well  to  be  angry?"  was  the 
question  asked  in  old  time  of  the  Hebrew  prophet.  And 
he  answered,  "I  do  well."  This  was  evidently  the  temper 
of  Junius;  and  to  this  cause  we  attribute  the  savage 
cruelty  which  disgraces  several  of  his  letters.  No  man 
is  so  merciless  as  he  who,  under  a  strong  self-delusion, 
confounds  his  antipathies  with  his  duties.  It  may  be 
added  that  Junius,  though  allied  with  the  democratic 
party  by  common  enmities,  was  the  very  opposite  of  a 
democratic  politician.  While  attacking  individuals  with 
a  ferocity  which  perpetually  violated  all  the  laws  of  lit- 
erary warfare,  he  regarded   the  most   defective  parts  of 


WARREN  HASTINGS  295 

old  institutions  with  a  respect  amounting  to  pedantry, 
pleaded  the  cause  of  Old  Sarum  with  fervor,  and  con- 
temptuously told  the  capitalists  of  Manchester  and  Leeds 
that,  if  they  wanted  votes,  they  might  buy  land  and  be- 
come freeholders  of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire.  All  this, 
we  believe,  might  stand,  with  scarcely  any  change,  for  a 
character  of  Philip  Francis. 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  great  anonymous  writer 
should  have  been  willing  at  that  time  to  leave  the  country 
which  had  been  so  powerfully  stirred  by  his  eloquence. 
Everything  had  gone  against  him.  That  party  which  he 
clearly  preferred  to  every  other,  the  party  of  George  Gren- 
ville/had  been  scattered  by  the  death  of  its  chief;  and 
Lord  Suffolk  had  led  the  greater  part  of  it  over  to  the 
ministerial  benches.  The  ferment  produced  by  the 
Middlesex  election  had  gone  down.  Every  faction  must 
have  been  alike  an  object  of  aversion  to  Junius.  His 
opinions  on  domestic  affairs  separated  him  from  the  min- 
istry; his  opinions  on  colonial  affairs  from  the  opposi- 
tion. Under  such  circumstances,  he  had  thrown  down 
his  pen  in  misanthropical  despair.  His  farewell  letter  ^ 
to  Woodfall  bears  date  the  nineteenth  of  January,  1773. 
In  that  letter,  he  declared  that  he  must  be  an  idiot  to 
write  again;  that  he  had  meant  well  by  the  cause  and 
the  public;  that  both  wore  given  up;  that  there  were  not 
ten  men  who  would  act  steadily  together  on  any  question. 
"Rut  it  is  all  alike,"  he  added,  "vile  and  contemptible, 
"^'ou  have  never  flinehed  that  I  know  of;  and  I  shall 
always  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  prosperity."  These  were 
the  last  words  of  Junius.  In  a  year  from  that  time, 
Philip  Francis  was  on  his  voyage  to  Rengal. 

With  the  three  new  Coimcilors  came  out  the  judges  of 
the  Supreme  Court.  The  chief  justice  was  Sir  Elijah 
Impey.  He  was  an  old  aeciuaintanee  of  Hastings;  and 
it  is  probable  that  the  Governor-General,  if  he  had 
searchefl  through  all  the  iiins  of  court,  could  not  have 
found  an  equally  serviceable  tool.  Rut  the  members  of 
Co\mcil  were  by  no  means  in  an  obse(iuious  mood.  Hast- 
ings greatly  disliked  the  new  form  of  government,  and 
had  no  very  high  opinion  of  his  coadjutors.  They  had 
heard  of  tliis,  jiiid  were  dispf)sed  to  be  .suspicious  and 
punctilious.     When  men  are  in  sii'h  a  frame  of  mind,  any 


296  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

trifle  is  sufficient  to  give  occasion  for  dispute.  The  mem- 
bers of  Council  expected  a  salute  of  twenty-one  jyuns  from 
the  batteries  of  Fort  William.  Hastings  allowed  them 
only  seventeen.  They  landed  in  ill-humor.  The  first 
civilities  were  exchanged  with  cold  reserve.  On  the  mor- 
row commenced  that  long  quarrel  which,  after  distracting 
British  India,  was  renewed  in  England,  and  in  which  all 
the  most  eminent  statesmen  and  orators  of  the  age  took 
active  part  on  one  or  the  other  side. 

Hastings  was  supported  by  Barwell.  They  had  not 
always  been  friends.  But  the  arrival  of  the  new  members 
of  Council  from  England  naturally  had  the  effect  of 
uniting  the  old  servants  of  the  Company.  Clavering, 
Monson,  and  Francis  formed  the  majority.  They  in- 
stantly wrested  the  government  out  of  the  hands  of  Has- 
tings; condemned,  certainly  not  without  justice,  his  late 
dealings  with  the  Nabob  Vizier;  recalled  the  English 
agent  from  Oude,  and  sent  thither  a  creature  of  their 
own;  ordered  the  brigade  which  had  conquered  the  un- 
happy Rohillas  to  return  to  the  Company's  territories; 
and  instituted  a  severe  inquiry  into  the  conduct  of  the 
war.  Next,  in  spite  of  the  Governor-General's  remon- 
strances, they  proceeded  to  exercise,  in  the  most  indiscreet 
manner,  their  new  authority  over  the  subordinate  presi- 
dencies; threw  all  the  affairs  of  Bombay  into  confusion; 
and  interfered,  with  an  incredible  union  of  rashness  and 
feebleness,  in  the  intestine  disputes  of  the  Mahratta  gov- 
ernment. At  the  same  time,  they  fell  on  the  internal 
administration  of  Bengal,  and  attacked  the  whole  fiscal 
and  judicial  system,  a  system  which  was  undoubtedly  de- 
fective, but  which  it  was  very  improbable  that  gentlemen 
fresh  from  England  would  be  competent  to  amend.  The 
eifect  of  their  reforms  was  that  all  protection  to  life  and 
property  was  withdrawn,  and  that  gangs  of  robbers  plun- 
dered and  slaughtered  with  impunity  in  the  very  suburbs 
of  Calcutta.  Hastings  continued  to  live  in  the  Govern- 
ment-house, and  to  draw  the  salary  of  Governor-General. 
He  continued  even  to  take  the  lead  at  the  council-board  in 
the  transaction  of  ordinary  business;  for  his  opponents 
could  not  but  feel  that  he  knew  much  of  which  they  were 
ignorant,  and  that  he  decided,  both  surely  and  speedily, 
many  questions  which  to  them  would  have  been  hopelessly 


WARREN  HASTINGS  297 

puzzling.     But  the  higher  powers  of  government  and  the 
most  valuable  patronage  had  been  taken  from  him. 

The  natives  soon  found  this  out.  They  considered  him 
as  a  fallen  man;  and  they  acted  after  their  kind.  Some 
of  our  readers  may  have  seen,  in  India,  a  cloud  of  crows 
pecking  a  sick  vulture  to  death,  no  bad  type  of  what  hap- 
pens in  that  country,  as  often  as  fortune  deserts  one  who 
has  been  great  and  dreaded.  In  an  instant,  all  the 
sycophants  who  had  lately  been  ready  to  lie  for  him,  to 
forge  for  him,  to  pander  for  him,  to  poison  for  him, 
hasten  to  purchase  the  favor  of  his  victorious  enemies  by 
accusing  him.  An  Indian  government  has  only  to  let  it 
be  understood  that  it  wishes  a  particular  man  to  be 
ruined;  and,  in  twenty-four  hours,  it  will  be  furnished 
with  grave  charges,  supported  by  depositions  so  full  and 
circumstantial  that  any  person  unaccustomed  to  Asiatic 
mendacity  would  regard  them  as  decisive.  It  is  well  if 
the  signature  of  the  destined  victim  is  not  counterfeited 
at  the  foot  of  some  illegal  compact,  and  if  some  treason- 
able paper  is  not  slipped  into  a  hiding-place  in  his  house. 
Hastings  was  now  regarded  as  helpless.  The  power  to 
make  or  mar  the  fortune  of  every  man  in  Bengal  had 
passed,  as  it  seemed,  into  the  hands  of  the  new  Coun- 
cilors. Immediately  charges  against  the  Governor-Clen- 
eral  began  to  jjour  in.  They  were  eagerly  welcomed  by 
the  majority,  who,  to  do  them  justice,  were  men  of  too 
much  honor  knowingly  to  countenance  false  accusations, 
but  who  were  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  East 
to  be  aware  that,  in  that  part  of  the  world,  a  very  little 
encouragement  from  power  will  call  forth,  in  a  week, 
more  Oatesea,  and  Pxcllocs,  and  Dangerfields,  than  West- 
minster Hall  sees  in  a  century. 

It  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if,  at  such  a  jiinc- 
ture,  Nuncomar  had  remained  (juir-t.  That  bad  man  was 
stimulated  at  once  by  malignity,  by  avarice,  and  liy  ambi- 
tion. Now  was  the  time  to  be  avenged  on  his  old  enemy, 
to  wreak  a  grudge  of  seventeen  years,  to  estalilisli  himself 
in  the  favor  of  the  majority  of  the  Council,  to  become 
the  greatest  native  in  ]>engal.  FroiTi  the  time  of  the 
arrival  of  the  new  Couneilors,  he  had  paid  the  most 
marked  court  to  them,  and  li.id  in  conseijuence  been  ex- 
cluded,  with   all   indignity,   from   the  (Jovernmcnt-house. 


298  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

He  now  put  into  the  hands  of  Francis,  with  great  cere- 
mony, a  paper  containing  several  charges  of  the  most 
serious  description.  By  this  document  Hastings  was 
accused  of  putting  offices  up  to  sale,  and  of  receiving 
bribes  for  suffering  offenders  to  escape.  In  particular,  it 
was  alleged  that  Mohammed  Reza  Khan  had  been  dis- 
missed with  impunity,  in  consideration  of  a  great  sum 
paid  to  the  Governor-General. 

Francis  read  the  paper  in  Council.  A  violent  alterca- 
tion followed.  Hastings  complained  in  bitter  terms  of 
the  way  in  which  he  was  treated,  spoke  with  contempt  of 
Nuncomar  and  of  Nuncomar's  accusation,  and  denied  the 
right  of  the  Council  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  Governor. 
At  the  next  meeting  of  the  Board,  another  communication 
from  Nuncomar  was  produced.  He  requested  that  he 
might  be  permitted  to  attend  the  Council,  and  that  he 
might  be  heard  in  support  of  his  assertions.  Another 
tempestuous  debate  took  place.  The  Governor-General 
maintained  that  the  council-room  was  not  a  proper  place 
for  such  an  investigation ;  that  from  persons  who  were 
heated  by  daily  conflict  with  him  he  could  not  expect  the 
fairness  of  judges;  and  that  he  could  not,  without  betray- 
ing the  dignity  of  his  post,  submit  to  be  confronted  with 
such  a  man  as  Nuncomar.  The  majority,  however,  re- 
solved to  go  into  the  charges.  Hastings  rose,  declared 
the  sitting  at  an  end,  and  left  the  room  followed  by  Bar- 
well.  The  other  members  kept  their  seats,  voted  them- 
selves a  council,  put  Clavering  in  the  chair,  and  ordered 
Nuncomar  to  be  called  in.  Nuncomar  not  only  adhered 
to  the  original  charges,  but,  after  the  fashion  of  the  East, 
produced  a  large  supplement.  He  stated  that  Hastings 
had  received  a  great  sum  for  appointing  Rajah  Goordas 
treasurer  of  the  Nabob's  household,  and  for  committing 
the  care  of  his  Highness's  person  to  the  Munny  Begum. 
He  put  in  a  letter  purporting  to  bear  the  seal  of  the 
Munny  Begum,  for  the  fjurpose  of  establishing  the  truth 
of  his  story.  The  seal,  whether  forged,  as  Hastings 
affirmed,  or  genuine,  as  we  are  rather  inclined  to  believe, 
proved  nothing.  Nuncomar,  as  everybody  knows  who 
knows  India,  had  only  to  tell  the  Munny  Begum  that  such 
a  letter  would  give  pleasure  to  the  majority  of  the  Council, 
in  order  to  procure  her  attestation.     The  majority,  how- 


WARREN  HASTINGS  29J> 

ever,  voted  that  the  charge  was  made  out;  that  Hastings 
had  corruptly  received  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand 
pounds;  and  that  he  ought  to  be  compelled  to  refund. 

The  general  feeling  among  the  English  in  Bengal  was 
strongly  in  favor  of  the  Governor-General.  In  talents 
for  business,  in  knowledge  of  the  country,  in  general 
courtesy  of  demeanor,  he  was  decidedly  superior  to  his 
persecutors.  The  servants  of  the  Company  were  naturally 
disposed  to  side  with  the  most  distinguished  member  of 
their  own  body  against  a  clerk  from  the  war-office,  who, 
profoundly  ignorant  of  the  native  languages  and  the 
native  character,  took  on  himself  to  regulate  every  depart- 
ment of  the  administration.  Hastings,  however,  in  spite 
of  the  general  sympathy  of  his  countrymen,  was  in  a 
most  painful  situation.  There  was  still  an  appeal  to 
higher  authority  in  England.  If  that  authority  took  part 
with  his  enemies,  nothing  was  left  to  him  but  to  throw 
up  his  office.  He  accordingly  placed  his  resignation  in 
the  hands  of  his  agent  in  London,  Colonel  Macleane.  But 
Macleane  was  instructed  not  to  produce  the  resignation, 
unless  it  should  be  fully  asfortained  that  ihe  feeling  at 
the  India  House  was  adverse  to  the  Governor-General. 

The  triumph  of  Nuncomar  seemed  to  be  complete.  He 
held  a  daily  levee,  to  which  his  countrymen  resorted  in 
crowds,  and  to  which,  on  one  occasion,  the  majority  of  the 
Council  condescended  to  repair.  His  house  was  an  office 
for  the  puri)f)se  of  receiving  charges  against  the  Governor- 
General.  It  was  said  that,  partly  by  threats,  and  partly 
by  wh('('<lling,  the  villainous  lirahman  had  induced  many 
of  the  wealthiest  men  of  the  province  to  send  in  com- 
plaints. Ijiit  he  was  playing  a  perilous  game.  It  was 
not  safe  to  drive  to  despair  a  man  of  such  resources  and 
of  such  determination  as  Hastings.  Nuncomar,  with  all 
his  acuteness,  did  not  understand  the  nature  of  the  insti- 
tutions und(:r  which  he  lived.  He  saw  that  he  had  with 
him  the  majority  of  the  body  which  mad<;  treaties,  gave 
places,  raised  taxes.  The  sey)aration  between  i)olitical  and 
judicial  functions  was  a  thing  of  which  In-  had  no  con- 
ception. It  had  probably  never  occiirreri  to  hini  that  there 
was  in  liengal  an  authority  perfectly  independent  of  the 
Council,  an  autliority  which  could  protect  one  whom  the 
Council   wished  to  destroy,  and   send  to  the  gibbet  one 


300  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

whom  the  Council  wished  to  protect.  Yet  such  was  the 
fact.  The  Supreme  Court  was,  within  the  sphere  of  its 
own  duties,  altogether  independent  of  the  Government. 
Hastings,  with  his  usual  sagacity,  had  seen  how  much 
advantage  he  might  derive  from  possessing  himself  of 
this  stronghold ;  and  he  had  acted  accordingly.  The 
Judges,  especially  the  Chief  Justice,  were  hostile  to  the 
majority  of  the  Council.  The  time  had  now  come  for 
putting  this  formidable  machinery  into  action. 

On  a  sudden,  Calcutta  was  astounded  by  the  news  that 
Nuncomar  had  been  taken  up  on  a  charge  of  felony,  com- 
mitted, and  tlirown  into  the  common  jail.  The  crime 
imputed  to  him  was  that  six  years  before  he  had  forged 
a  bond.  The  ostensible  prosecutor  was  a  native.  But  it 
was  then,  and  still  is,  the  opinion  of  everybody,  idiots 
and  biographers  excepted,  that  Hastings  was  the  real 
mover  in  the  business. 

The  rage  of  the  majority  rose  to  the  highest  point. 
They  protested  against  the  proceedings  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  and  sent  several  urgent  messages  to  the  Judges, 
demanding  that  Nuncomar  should  be  admitted  to  bail. 
The  Judges  returned  haughty  and  resolute  answers.  All 
that  the  Council  could  do  was  to  heap  honors  and  emolu- 
ments on  the  family  of  Nuncomar;  and  this  they  did.  In 
the  meantime  the  assizes  commenced ;  a  true  bill  was 
found ;  and  Nuncomar  was  brought  laefore  Sir  Elijah 
Impey  and  a  jury  composed  of  Englishmen.  A  great 
quantity  of  contradictory  swearing,  and  the  necessity  of 
having  every  word  of  the  evidence  interpreted,  protracted 
the  trial  to  a  most  unusual  length.  At  last  a  verdict  of 
guilty  was  returned,  and  the  Chief  Justice  pronounced 
sentence  of  death  on  the  prisoner. 

Mr.  Gleig  is  so  strangely  ignorant  as  to  imagine  that 
the  Judges  had  no  further  discretion  in  the  ease,  and 
that  the  power  of  extending  mercy  to  Nuncomar  resided 
with  the  Council.  He  therefore  throws  on  Francis  and 
Francis's  party  the  whole  blame  of  what  followed.  We 
should  have  thought  that  a  gentleman  who  has  published 
five  or  six  bulky  volumes  on  Indian  affairs  might  have 
taken  the  trouble  to  inform  himself  as  to  the  fundamental 
principles  of  the  Indian  Government.  The  Supreme 
Court  had,  under  the  Regulating  Act,  the  power  to  respite 


WARREX  HASTINGS  301 

criminals  till  the  pleasure  of  the  Crown  should  be  known. 
The  Council  had  at  that  time  no  power  to  interfere. 

That  Impey  ought  to  have  respited  Nuncomar  we  hold 
to  be  perfectly  clear.  Whether  the  whole  proceeding  was 
not  illegal,  is  a  question.  But  it  is  certain  that  whatever 
may  have  been,  according  to  technical  rules  of  construc- 
tion, the  effect  of  the  statute  under  which  the  trial  took 
place,  it  was  most  unjust  to  hang  a  Hindu  for  forgery. 
The  law  which  made  forgery  capital  in  England  was 
passed  without  the  smallest  reference  to  the  state  of 
society  in  India.  It  was  unknown  to  the  natives  of  India. 
It  had  never  been  put  in  execution  among  them,  certainly 
not  for  want  of  delinquents.  It  was  in  the  highest  degree 
shocking  to  all  their  notions.  They  were  not  accustomed 
to  the  distinction  which  many  circumstances,  peculiar  to 
our  own  state  of  society,  have  led  us  to  make  between 
forgery  and  other  kinds  of  cheating.  The  'counterfeiting 
of  a  seal  was,  in  their  estimation,  a  common  act  of 
swindling;  nor  had  it  ever  crossed  their  minds  that  it  was 
to  be  punished  as  severely  as  gang-robbery  or  assassina- 
tion. A  just  judge  would,  beyond  all  doubt,  have  reserved 
the  case  for  the  consideration  of  the  sovereign.  But 
Impey  would  not  hear  of  mercy  or  delay. 

The  excitement  among  all  classes  was  great.  Francis 
and  Francis's  few  English  adherents  described  the  Gov- 
ernor-General and  the  Cliii'f  .lustice  as  the  worst  of  mur- 
derers. Clavering,  it  was  said,  swore  that,  even  at  the 
foot  of  the  gallows,  Nuneomar  should  be  rescued.  'IMie 
bulk  of  the  European  society,  tluiugli  strongly  attached 
to  the  Governor-General,  could  not  but  feel  compassion 
for  a  man  who,  with  all  his  crimes,  had  so  long  filled  so 
large  a  space  in  their  sight,  who  had  been  great  and 
powerful  before  the  British  empire  in  India  began  to  exist, 
and  to  whom,  in  the  old  times,  governors  and  members  of 
council,  then  mere  eommercial  factors,  had  paid  court 
for  protection.  The  feeling  of  the  Hindus  was  infinitely 
stronger.  Tbcy  were,  indeed,  not  a  peo|)le  to  strike  one 
blow  for  their  countryman.  But  his  sentence  filled  them 
with  sorrow  and  dismay.  Tried  even  by  their  low  stand- 
ard of  mf)rality.  he  was  a  bad  man.  But,  bad  as  he  was, 
he  was  the  head  f)f  their  race  and  n-Iigion,  a  iirahman  of 
the  Brahmans.     He  had  inherited  the  purest  and  highest 


302  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

caste.  He  had  practised  with  the  greatest  punctuality  all 
those  ceremonies  to  which  the  superstitious  Bengalees 
ascribe  far  more  importance  than  to  the  correct  discliarge 
of  the  social  duties.  They  felt,  therefore,  as  a  devout 
Catholic  in  the  dark  ages  would  have  felt,  at  seeing  a 
prelate  of  the  highest  dignity  sent  to  the  gallows  by  a 
secular  tribunal.  According  to  their  old  national  laws, 
a  Brahman  could  not  be  put  to  death  for  any  crime  what- 
ever. And  the  crime  for  which  Nuncomar  was  about  to 
die  was  regarded  by  them  in  much  the  same  light  in  which 
the  selling  of  an  unsound  horse,  for  a  sound  price,  is. 
regarded  by  a  Yorkshire  jockey. 

The  Mussulmans  alone  appear  to  have  seen  with  exul- 
tation the  fate  of  the  powerful  Hindu,  who  had  attempted 
to  rise  by  means  of  the  ruin  of  Mohammed  Reza  Khan. 
The  Mohammedan  historian  of  those  times  takes  delight 
in  aggravating  the  charge.  He  assures  us  that  in  Nun- 
comar's  house  a  casket  was  found  containing  counter- 
feits of  the  seals  of  all  the  richest  men  of  the  province. 
We  have  never  fallen  in  with  any  other  authority  for 
this  story,  which  in  itself  is  by  no  means  improbable. 

The  day  drew  near;  and  Nuncomar  prepared  himself 
to  die  with  that  quiet  fortitude  with  which  the  Bengalee, 
so  effeminately  timid  in  personal  conflict,  often  encoun- 
ters calamities  for  which  there  is  no  remedy.  The  sheriff, 
with  the  humanity  which  is  seldom  wanting  in  an  English 
gentleman,  visited  the  prisoner  on  the  eve  of  the  execu- 
tion, and  assured  him  that  no  indulgence,  consistent  with 
the  law,  should  be  refused  to  him.  Nuncomar  expressed 
his  gratitude  with  great  politeness  and  unaltered  com- 
posure. Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved.  Not  a  sigh 
broke  from  him.  He  put  his  finger  to  his  forehead,  and 
calmly  said  that  fate  would  have  its  way,  and  that  there 
was  no  resisting  the  i)leasure  of  God.  He  sent  his  com- 
pliments to  Francis,  Clavcring,  and  Monson,  and  charged 
them  to  protect  Rajah  Goordas,  who  was  about  to  become 
the  head  of  the  Brahmans  of  Bengal.  The  sheriff  with- 
drew, greatly  agitated  by  what  had  passed,  and  Nuncomar 
sat  composedly  down  to  write  notes  and  examine  accounts. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  sun  was  in  his  power,  an 
immense  concourse  assembled  round  the  place  where  the 
gallows  had  been  set  up.     Grief  and  horror  were  on  every 


WARREN  HASTINGS  303 

face;  yet  to  the  last  the  multitude  could  hardly  believe 
that  the  English  really  purj^osed  to  take  the  life  of  the 
great  Brahman.  At  length  the  mournful  procession  came 
through  the  crowd.  Nuncomar  sat  up  in  his  palanquin, 
and  looked  round  him  with  unaltered  serenity.  He  had 
just  parted  from  those  who  were  most  nearly  connected 
with  him.  Their  cries  and  contortions  had  appalled  the 
European  ministers  of  justice,  but  had  not  produced  the 
smallest  effect  on  the  iron  stoicism  of  the  prisoner.  The 
only  anxiety  which  he  expressed  was  that  men  of  his  own 
pciestly  caste  might  be  in  attendance  to  take  charge  of 
his  corpse.  He  again  desired  to  be  remembered  to  his 
friends  in  the  Council,  mounted  the  scaffold  with  firm- 
ness, and  gave  the  signal  to  the  executioner.  The 
moment  that  the  drop  fell,  a  howl  of  sorrow  and  despair 
rose  from  the  innumerable  spectators.  Hundreds  turned 
away  their  faces  from  the  polluting  sight,  Hod  with  loud 
wailings  towards  the  Hugli,  and  plunged  into  its  holy 
waters,  as  if  to  purify  themselves  from  the  guilt  of  hav- 
ing looked  on  such  a  crime.  These  feelings  W'crc  not  con- 
fined to  Calcutta.  The  whole  province  was  greatly  ex- 
cited; and  the  i)opulation  of  Dacca,  in  particular,  gave 
strong  signs  of  grief  and  dismay. 

Of  Impey's  conduct  it  is  impossible  to  speak  too 
severely.  We  have  already  said  that,  in  our  opinion,  he 
aftf'd  unjustly  in  refusing  to  respite  Nuncomar.  No 
ratifjiial  man  can  doubt  that  he  took  this  course  in  order 
to  gratify  the  Governor-CJeneral.  If  we  had  ever  had 
any  doubts  on  that  point,  they  would  have  Ix^en  disix-Urd 
by  a  letter  which  >Mr.  (!leig  has  jjublishcd.  Hastings, 
three  or  four  years  later,  described  Iinpey  as  the  man 
"to  whose  supjiort  he  was  at  one  time  indebted  for  the 
safety  of  his  fortune,  honor,  and  reputation.''  These 
strong  words  can  refer  only  .to  the  case  of  Nunconnir; 
and  they  must  mean  that  Impey  hanged  Nuncomar  in 
order  to  sui)p()rt  Hastings.  It  is,  theretore,  our  delilierato 
opinion  that  Impey,  sitting  as  a  judge,  put  a  man  un- 
justly to  death   in  order  to  serve  a   jxilitical  purpose. 

I»nt  we  look  on  the  conduct  of  Hastings  in  a  somewhat 
different  light.  Ho  was  struggling  for  fortune,  hcuinr. 
liberty,  all  that  makes  life  valuable.  He  was  beset  by 
rancr>rou8  and  unprincipled  enemies.     From  his  colleagues 


304  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

he  could  expect  no  justice.  He  cannot  be  blamed  for 
wishing  to  crush  his  accusers.  He  was  indeed  bound  to 
use  only  legitimate  moans  for  that  end.  But  it  was  not 
strange  that  he  should  have  thought  any  means  legitimate 
which  were  pronounced  legitimate  by  the  sages  of  the  law, 
by  men  whose  peculiar  duty  it  was  to  deal  justly  between 
adversaries,  and  whose  education  might  be  supposed  to 
have  peculiarly  qualified  them  for  the  discharge  of  that 
duty.  Nobody  demands  from  a  party  the  unbending 
equity  of  a  judge.  The  reason  that  judges  are  appointed 
is,  that  even  a  good  man  cannot  be  trusted  to  decide  a 
cause  in  which  he  is  himself  concerned.  Not  a  day  passes 
on  which  an  honest  prosecutor  does  not  ask  for  what 
none  but  a  dishonest  tribunal  would  grant.  It  is  too 
much  to  expect  that  any  man,  when  his  dearest  interests 
are  at  stake,  and  his  strongest  passions  excited,  will,  as 
against  himself,  be  more  just  than  the  sworn  dispensers 
of  justice.  To  take  an  analogous  case  from  the  history  of 
our  own  island :  suppose  that  Lord  Stailord,  when  in  the 
Tower  on  suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  the  Popish 
plot,  had  been  apprised  that  Titus  Gates  had  done  some- 
thing which  might,  by  a  questionable  construction,  be 
brought  under  the  head  of  felony.  Should  we  severely 
blame  Lord  Stafford,  in  the  supposed  case,  for  causing 
a  prosecution  to  be  instituted,  for  furnishing  funds,  for 
using  all  his  influence  to  intercept  the  mercy  of  the 
Crown?  We  think  not.  If  a  judge,  indeed,  from  favor 
to  the  Catholic  lords,  were  to  strain  the  law  in  order  to 
hang  Gates,  such  a  judge  would  richly  deserve  impeach- 
ment. But  it  does  not  appear  to  us  that  the  Catholic 
lord,  by  bringing  the  case  before  the  judge  for  decision, 
would  materially  overstep  the  limits  of  a  just  self-defense. 
While,  therefore,  we  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  this 
memorable  execution  is  to  be  attributed  to  Hastings,  we 
doubt  whether  it  can  with  justice  be  reckoned  among  his 
crimes.  That  his  conduct  was  dictated  by  a  profound 
policy  is  evident.  He  was  in  a  minority  in  Council.  It 
was  possible  that  he  might  long  be  in  a  minority.  He 
knew  the  native  character  well.  He  knew  in  what  abun- 
dance accusations  are  certain  to  flow  in  against  the  most 
innocent  inhabitant  of  India  who  is  under  the  frown  of 
power.     There  was  not  in  the  whole  bla(;k  population  of 


WARREN  HASTINGS  305 

Bengal  a  place-holder,  a  place-hunter,  a  government  ten- 
ant, who  did  not  think  that  he  might  better  himself  by 
sending  up  a  deposition  against  the  Governor-General. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  persecuted  statesman  re- 
solved to  teach  the  whole  crew  of  accusers  and  witnesses 
that,  though  in  a  minority  at  the  council  board,  he  was 
still  to  be  feared.  The  lesson  which  he  gave  them  was 
indeed  a  lesson  not  to  be  forgotten.  The  head  of  the 
combination  which  had  been  formed  against  him,  the 
richest,  the  most  powerful,  the  most  artful  of  the  Hindus, 
distinguished  by  the  favor  of  those  who  then  held  the 
government,  fenced  round  by  the  superstitious  reverence 
of  millions,  was  hanged  in  broad  day  before  many  thou- 
sands of  people.  Everything  that  could  make  the  warning 
impressive,  dignity  in  the  sufferer,  solemnity  in  the  pro- 
ceeding, was  found  in  tliis  ease.  The  helpless  rage  and 
vain  struggles  of  the  Council  made  the  triumph  more 
signal.  From  that  moment  the  conviction  of  every  native 
was  that  it  was  safer  to  take  the  part  of  Hastings  in  a 
minority  than  that  of  P>ancis  in  a  majority,  and  that 
he  who  was  so  venturous  as  to  join  in  running  down 
tlie  Governor-General  miglit  chance,  in  the  phrase  of  the 
Eastern  poet,  to  find  a  tig(>r,  while  beating  the  jungle  for 
a  deer.  The  voices  of  a  thousand  informers  were  silenced 
in  an  instant.  From  tliat  time,  whatever  ditficultics  Has- 
tings might  have  to  encf)unt('r,  he  was  never  molested  by 
accusations  from  natives  of  India. 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that  one  of  the  letters 
of  Hastings  to  Dr.  Johnson  bears  date  a  very  few  liours 
after  the  death  of  Xuneomar.  While  the  whole  settlement 
was  in  commotion,  while  a  mighty  and  ancient  priesthood 
w<T(!  weei)ing  f)ver  the  remains  of  their  chief,  the  con- 
queror in  that  deadly  grajiple  sat  down,  with  character- 
istic; self-possession,  to  write  about  the  Tour  to  the 
TFel. rides,  Jones's  Persian  Granunar,  and  the  history, 
tniditions,  arts,  and  natural  productions  of   India. 

In  the  mean  time,  intelligence  of  the  liohilhi  war,  and 
f)f  the  first  disj)utes  between  Hastings  and  his  colleagues, 
had  reached  London.  The  directors  took  part  with  the 
majority,  and  sent  out  a  letter  tilled  with  severe  reflections 
on  the  cfniduct  of  Hastings.  They  condemned,  in  strong 
hut  just  terms,  the  inir[uity  of  undertaking  olTensive  wars 


306  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

merely  for  the  sake  of  pecuniary  advanta|?es.  But  they 
utterly  forgot  that,  if  Hastings  had  by  illicit  means  ob- 
tained pecuniary  advantages,  he  had  done  so,  not  for  his 
own  benefit,  but  in  order  to  meet  their  demands.  To 
enjoin  honesty,  and  to  insist  on  having  what  could  not 
be  honestly  got,  was  then  the  constant  practise  of  the 
Company.  As  Lady  Macbeth  says  of  her  husband,  they 
"would  not  play  false,  and  yet  would  wrongly  win." 

The  Regulating  Act,  by  which  Hastings  had  been  ap- 
pointed Governor-General  for  five  years,  empowered  the 
Crown  to  remove  him  on  an  address  from  the  Company. 
Lord  North  was  desirous  to  procure  such  an  address. 
The  three  members  of  Council  who  had  been  sent  out 
from  England  were  men  of  his  own  choice.  General 
Clavering,  in  particular,  was  supported  by  a  large  parlia- 
mentary connection,  such  as  no  cabinet  could  be  inclined 
to  disoblige.  The  wish  of  the  Minister  was  to  displace 
Hastings,  and  to  put  Clavering  at  the  head  of  the  gov- 
ernment. In  the  Court  of  Directors  parties  were  very 
nearly  balanced.  Eleven  voted  against  Hastings;  ten  for 
him.  The  Court  of  Proprietors  was  then  convened.  The 
great  sale-room  presented  a  singular  appearance.  Letters 
had  been  sent  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  exhorting 
all  the  supporters  of  government  who  held  India  stock 
to  be  in  attendance.  Lord  Sandwich  marshaled  the 
friends  of  the  administration  with  his  usual  dexterity  and 
alertness.  Fifty  peers  and  privy  councilors,  seldom  seen 
so  far  eastward,  were  counted  in  the  crowd.  The  debate 
lasted  till  midnight.  The  opponents  of  Hastings  had  a 
small  superiority  on  the  division ;  but  a  ballot  was  de- 
manded; and  the  result  was  that  the  Governor-General 
triumphed  by  a  majority  of  above  a  hundred  votes  over 
the  combined  efforts  of  the  Directors  and  the  Cabinet. 
The  ministers  were  greatly  exasperated  by  this  defeat. 
Even  Lord  North  lost  his  temper,  no  ordinary  occurrence 
with  him,  and  threatened  to  convoke  parliament  before 
Christmas,  and  to  bring  in  a  bill  for  depriving  the  Com- 
pany of  all  political  power,  and  for  restricting  it  to  its 
old  business  of  trading  in  silks  and  teas. 

Colonel  Macleane,  who  through  all  this  conflict  had 
zealously  supported  the  cause  of  Hastings,  now  thought 
that  his  employer  was  in  iniminont  danger  of  being  turned 


WARREN  HASTINGS  307 

out,  branded  with  parliamentary  censure,  perhaps  prose- 
cuted. The  opinion  of  the  crown  Lawyers  had  already  been 
taken  respecting  some  parts  of  the  Governor-General's 
conduct.  It  seemed  to  be  high  time  to  think  of  securing 
an  honorable  retreat.  Under  these  circumstances, 
Macleane  thought  himself  justified  in  producing  the  resig- 
nation with  which  he  had  been  intrusted.  The  instrument 
was  not  in  very  accurate  form ;  but  the  Directors  were 
too  eager  to  be  scrupulous.  They  accepted  the  resigna- 
tion, fixed  on  Mr.  Wheler,  one  of  their  own  body,  to 
succeed  Hastings,  and  sent  out  orders  that  General  Claver- 
ing,  as  senior  member  of  Council,  should  exercise  the 
functions  of  Governor-General  till  Mr.  Wheler  should 
arrive. 

But,  while  these  things  were  passing  in  England,  a 
great  change  had  taken  place  in  Bengal.  Monson  was 
no  more.  Only  four  members  of  the  government  were 
left.  Clavering  and  Francis  were  on  one  side,  Barwell 
and  the  Governor-General  on  the  other;  and  the  Governor- 
General  had  the  casting  vote.  Hastings,  who  had  been 
during  two  years  destitute  of  all  power  and  patronage, 
became  at  once  absolute.  He  instantly  proceeded  to 
retaliate  on  his  adversaries.  Their  measures  were  re- 
versed :  their  creatures  were  displaced.  A  new  valuation 
of  the  lands  of  Bengal,  for  the  purposes  of  taxation,  was 
ordered;  and  it  was  jirovided  tliat  the  whole  in(iuiry 
sliDuld  l)e  conducted  by  tlie  (Jovernor-Gcneral,  and  that 
all  the  letters  relating  to  it  should  run  in  his  name.  He 
began,  at  the  same  time,  to  revolve  vast  i)laiis  of  eomiuest 
and  dominion,  plana  which  Ik;  lived  to  see  realized,  though 
not  V)y  himself.  His  i)n>jeet  was  to  form  sulisidiary 
alliaiiees  with  the  native  princes,  partieularly  with  those 
of  (Jude  and  Berar,  and  tlnis  to  make;  J>ritain  tin;  para- 
mount power  in  India.  While  he  was  meditating  these 
great  designs,  arrived  the  iiitejligenee  tliat  he  had  ceased 
to  be  Governor-General,  that  his  resignation  had  been 
accepted,  that  Wheler  was  coming  out  immediately,  and 
that,  till  Wheler  arrived,  tlie  cli.'ilr  was  tf)  be  filled  by 
Clavr'riiitr. 

Hacl  Hastings  still  been  in  a  minority,  ho  would  jirol)- 
ably  have  retired  without  a  struggle;  but  ho  was  now 
the  real  master  of  British  India,  and  he  was  not  disposed 


308  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

to  quit  his  liiyli  place.  He  asserted  that  he  had  never 
given  any  instriu-tions  which  could  warrant  the  steps 
taken  at  home.  What  his  instructions  had  been,  he  owned 
he  had  forgotten.  If  he  had  kept  a  copy  of  them  he  had 
mislaid  it.  But  he  was  certain  that  he  had  repeatedly 
declared  to  the  Directors  that  he  would  not  resign.  He 
could  not  see  how  the  court,  possessed  of  that  declaration 
from  himself,  could  receive  his  resignation  from  the 
doubtful  hands  of  an  agent.  If  the  resignation  were 
invalid,  all  the  proceedings  which  were  founded  on  that 
resignation  were  null,  and  Hastings  was  still  Governor- 
General. 

He  afterwards  affirmed  that,  though  his  agents  had  not 
acted  in  conformity  with  his  instructions,  he  would  never- 
theless have  held  himself  bound  by  their  acts,  if  Clavering 
had  not  attempted  to  seize  the  supreme  power  by  violence. 
Whether  this  assertion  were  or  were  not  true,  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  the  imprudence  of  Clavering  gave  Has- 
tings an  advantage.  The  General  sent  for  the  keys  of  the 
fort  and  of  the  treasury,  took  possession  of  the  records, 
and  held  a  council  at  which  Francis  attended.  Hastings 
took  the  chair  in  another  apartment,  and  Barwell  sat 
with  him.  Each  of  the  two  parties  had  a  plausible  show 
of  right.  There  was  no  authority  entitled  to  their  obedi- 
ence within  fifteen  thousand  miles.  It  seemed  that  there 
remained  no  way  of  settling  the  dispute  except  an  appeal 
to  arms ;  and  from  such  an  appeal  Hastings,  confident  of 
his  influence  over  his  countrymen  in  India,  was  not  in- 
clined to  shrink.  He  directed  the  officers  of  the  garrison 
of  Fort  William  and  of  all  the  neighboring  stations  to 
obey  no  orders  but  his.  At  the  same  time,  with  admirable 
judgment,  he  offered  to  submit  the  case  to  the  Supreme 
Court,  and  to  abide  by  its  decision.  By  making  this 
proposition  he  risked  nothing;  yet  it  was  a  proposition 
which  his  opponents  could  hardly  reject.  Nobody  could 
be  treated  as  a  criminal  for  obeying  what  the  judges 
should  solemnly  pronounce  to  be  the  lawful  government. 
The  boldest  man  would  shrink  from  taking  arms  in 
defense  of  what  the  judges  should  pronounce  to  be 
usurpation.  Clavering  and  Francis,  after  some  delay, 
unwillingly  consented  to  abide  by  the  award  of  the  court. 
The  court  pronounced  that  the  resignation  was  invalid, 


WARREN  HASTINGS  309 

and  that  therefore  Hastings  was  still  Governor-General 
under  the  Regulating  Act ;  and  the  defeated  members  of 
the  Council,  finding  that  the  sense  of  the  whole  settlement 
was  against  them,  acquiesced  in  the  decision. 

About  this  time  arrived  the  news  that,  after  a  suit 
which  had  lasted  several  years,  the  Franconian  courts  had 
decreed  a  divorce  between  ImhofF  and  his  wife.  The 
Baron  left  Calcutta,  carrying  with  him  the  means  of  buy- 
ing an- estate  in  Saxony.  The  lady  became  Mrs.  Hastings. 
The  event  was  celebrated  by  great  festivities;  and  all  the 
most  conspicuous  persons  at  Calcutta,  without  distinction 
of  parties,  Avere  invited  to  the  Government-house.  Claver- 
ing,  as  the  Mohammedan  chronicler  tells  the  story,  was 
sick  in  mind  and  body,  and  excused  himself  from  joining 
the  splendid  assembly.  But  Hastings,  whom,  as  it  should 
seem,  success  in  ambition  and  in  love  had  put  into  high 
good-humor,  would  take  no  denial.  He  went  himself  to 
the  General's  house,  and  at  length  brought  his  vanquished 
rival  in  triumph  to  the  gay  circle  which  surrounded  the 
bride.  The  exertion  was  too  much  for  a  frame  broken 
b.v  mortification  as  well  as  by  disease.  Clavering  died  a 
few  days  later. 

Wheler,  who  came  out  expecting  to  be  Governor- 
General,  and  was  forced  to  coutont  himself  with  a  seat 
at  the  Council  Board,  generally  voted  with  Francis.  But 
the  Governor-General,  with  Barwcll's  help  and  his  own 
casting  vote,  was  still  tin*  master.  Some  change  took 
pL'U-e  at  this  time  in  the  ft'ding  both  of  the  Court  of 
Directors  and  of  th(>  Ministers  of  the  Crown.  All  designs 
against  Hastings  were  dro|)j)ed;  and  when  his  original 
term  of  five  years  expired,  he  was  quietly  re-appointed. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  fr-arful  dangers  to  which  the  jiublic 
int«'rests  in  every  quarter  were  now  exposed,  made  botli 
Lord  North  and  the  ('oinpany  unwilling  to  part  witli  a 
Governor  whose  talents,  experience,  and  resolution  enmity 
itself  was  compelled  to  acknowledge. 

The  crisis  was  indeed  forniifliilile.  Tliat  great  and  vic- 
torious empire,  on  the  throne  of  which  George  the  Tliird 
had  taken  his  seat  eighteen  years  before,  with  brighter 
hopes  than  had  attende«l  the  accessif)n  of  any  of  the  long 
line  of  Knglish  sovereigns,  bad,  by  the  most  senseless 
misgovernment,  been  brought  to  the  verge  of  ruin.      In 


310  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

America  millions  of  Enurlishiiien  were  at  war  with  the 
country  from  which  tlieir  blood,  their  language,  their 
religion,  and  their  institutions  were  derived,  and  to  which, 
but  a  short  time  before,  they  had  been  as  strongly  attached 
as  the  inhabitants  of  Norfolk  and  Leicestershire.  The 
great  powers  of  Europe,  humbled  to  the  dust  by  the  vigor 
and  genius  which  had  guided  the  councils  of  (Jcorge  the 
Second,  now  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  a  signal  revenge. 
The  time  was  approaching  when  our  island,  while  strug- 
gling to  keep  down  the  United  States  of  America,  and 
pressed  with  a  still  nearer  danger  by  the  too  just  discon- 
tents of  Ireland,  was  to  be  assailed  by  France,  Spain,  and 
Holland,  and  to  be  threatened  by  the  armed  neutrality  of 
the  Baltic;  when  even  our  maritime  supremacy  was  to  be 
in  jeopardy;  when  hostile  fleets  were  to  command  the 
Straits  of  Calpe  and  the  Mexican  Sea ;  when  the  British 
flag  was  to  be  scarcely  able  to  protect  the  British  Channel. 
Great  as  were  the  faults  of  Hastings,  it  was  happy  for 
our  country  that  at  that  conjuncture,  the  most  terrible 
through  which  she  has  ever  passed,  he  was  the  ruler  of 
her  Indian  dominions. 

An  attack  by  sea  on  Bengal  was  little  to  be  appre- 
hended. The  danger  was  that  the  European  enemies  of 
England  might  form  an  alliance  with  some  native  power, 
might  furnish  that  power  with  troops,  arms,  and  ammuni- 
tion, and  might  thus  assail  our  possessions  on  the  side  of 
the  land.  It  was  chiefly  from  the  Mahrattas  that  Has- 
tings anticipated  danger.  The  original  scat  of  that  singu- 
lar people  was  the  wild  range  of  hills  which  runs  along 
the  western  coast  of  India.  In  the  reign  of  Aurungzebe 
the  inhabitants  of  those  regions,  led  by  the  great  Sevajee, 
began  to  descend  on  the  possessions  of  their  wealthier 
and  less  warlike  neighbors.  The  energy,  ferocity,  and 
cunning  of  the  Mahrattas  soon  made  them  the  most  con- 
spicuous among  the  new  powers  which  were  generated  by 
the  corruption  of  the  decaying  monarchy.  At  first  they 
were  only  robbers.  They  soon  rose  to  the  dignity  of  con- 
querors. Half  the  provinces  of  the  empire  were  turned 
into  Mahratta  principalities.  Freebooters,  sprung  from 
low  castes  and  accustomed  to  menial  employments,  be- 
came mighty  Rajahs.  The  Bonslas,  at  the  head  of  a  band 
of  plunderers,  occupied  the  vast  region  of  Berar.     The 


WARREX  HASTINGS  311 

Gaikwar,  which  is,  being-  interpreted,  the  Herdsman, 
founded  that  dynasty  which  still  reigns  in  Guzerat.  The 
houses  of  Scindia  and  Holkar  waxed  great  in  Malwa. 
One  adventurous  captain  made  his  nest  on  the  impreg- 
nable rock  of  Gooti.  Another  became  the  lord  of  the 
thousand  villages  which  are  scattered  among  the  green, 
rice-fields  of  Tanjore. 

That  was  the  time,  throughout  India,  of  double  gov- 
ernment. The  form  and  the  power  were  everywhere 
separated.  The  Mussulman  nabobs  who  had  become 
savereigu  princes,  the  Vizier  in  Oude,  and  the  Nizam  at 
Hyderabad,  still  called  themselves  the  viceroys  of  the 
house  of  Tamerlane.  In  the  same  manner  the  Mahratta 
states,  though  really  independent  of  each  other,  pretended 
to  be  members  of  one  empire.  They  all  acknowledged, 
by  words  and  ceremonies,  the  supremacy  of  the  heir  of 
Sevajee,  a  roi  faineant  who  chewed  bhang  and  toyed  with 
dancing  girls  in  a  state  prison  at  Sattara,  and  of  his 
Peshwa  or  mayor  of  the  palace,  a  great  hereditary  magis- 
trate, who  kei)t  a  court  with  kingly  state  at  Poonah,  and 
whose  authority  was  obeyed  in  the  spacious  provinces  of 
Aurungabad  and  Bejajiofir. 

Some  months  before  war  was  dcchired  in  Europe  the 
government  of  Bengal  was  alarmed  by  the  news  that  a 
French  adventurer,  who  passed  for  a  man  of  quality, 
had  arrived  at  Poonah.  It  was  said  that  he  had  bci'u 
received  there  with  great  distinction,  tluit  he  had  de- 
li venn]  to  the  Peshwa  letters  and  presents  from  Louis  the 
Sixteenth,  ami  that  a  treaty,  hostile  to  Knghmd.  had  been 
concluded    between    Franee  and   the   Mabrattas. 

Hastings  innnediately  resolved  to  strike  the  first  blow. 
The  title  of  tlie  Pashwa  was  not  undisputed.  A  portion 
of  the  .Mahratta  nation  was  favorable  to  a  jiretender.  The 
Govemor-(ioneral  detennined  to  esimuse  this  pretender's 
interest,  to  move  an  army  across  the  peninsula  <»f  India, 
and  to  form  a  dose  alliance  with  the  chief  of  the  house 
of  Bonsia,  who  ruled  lierar,  and  who,  in  jiower  and 
<lignity.  was  inferior  to  uftne  of  the  .Mahratta  y)rinces. 

The  army  had  niarelie<l.  and  the  negotiations  with  I»erar 
were  in  progress,  when  a  letter  from  the  English  i-onsul 
at  Cairo  brought  the  news  that  war  had  been  j)ror'laimed 
both  iii   London  and  J'aris.     All  the  measures  whieh   the 


312  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

crisis  required  were  adopted  by  Hastings  without  a 
moment's  delay.  The  Frcnt-h  factories  in  Bengal  were 
seized.  Orders  were  sent  to  Madras  that  Pondicherry 
should  instantly  be  occupied.  Near  Calcutta,  works  were 
thrown  up  which  were  thought  to  render  the  approach  of 
a  hostile  force  impossible.  A  nuiritime  establishment  was 
formed  for  the  defense  of  the  river.  Nine  new  battalions 
of  sepoys  were  raised,  and  a  corps  of  native  artillery  was 
formed  out  of  the  hardy  lascars  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal. 
Having  made  these  arrangements,  the  Governor-General 
with  calm  confidence  pronounced  his  presidency  secure 
from  all  attack,  unless  the  Mahrattas  should  march 
against  it  in  conjunction  with  the  French. 

The  expedition  which  Hastings  had  sent  westward  was 
not  so  si)eedily  or  completely  successful  as  most  of  his 
undertakings.  The  commanding  officer  procrastinated. 
The  authorities  at  Bombay  bhindered.  But  the  Governor- 
General  persevered.  A  new  commander  repaired  the 
errors  of  his  predecessor.  Several  brilliant  actions  spread 
the  military  renown  of  the  English  through  regions  where 
no  European  flag  had  ever  been  seen.  It  is  probable  that, 
if  a  new  and  more  formidable  danger  had  not  compelled 
Hastings  to  change  his  whole  policy,  his  plans  respecting 
the  Mahratta  empire  would  have  been  carried  into  com- 
plete effect. 

The  authorities  in  England  had  wisely  sent  out  to 
Bengal,  as  commander  of  the  forces  and  member  of  the 
council,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  soldiers  of  that 
time.  Sir  Eyre  Coote  had,  many  years  before,  been  con- 
spicuous among  the  founders  of  the  British  empire  in  the 
East.  At  the  council  of  war  which  preceded  the  battle 
of  Plassey,  he  earnestly  recommended,  in  opposition  to  the 
majority,  that  daring  course  which,  after  some  hesitation, 
was  adopted,  and  which  was  crowned  with  such  splendid 
success.  He  subsequently  commanded  in  the  south  of 
India  against  the  brave  and  unfortunate  Lally,  gained  the 
decisive  battle  of  Wandewash  over  the  French  and  their 
native  allies,  took  Pondicherry,  and  made  the  English 
power  supreme  in  the  Carnatic.  Since  those  great  ex- 
ploits near  twenty  years  had  elapsed.  Coote  had  no  longer 
the  bodily  activity  which  he  had  shown  in  earlier  days; 
nor   was   the  vigor   of  his   mind    altogether   unimpaired. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  3J3 

He  was  capricious  and  fretful,  and  required  much  coax- 
ing to  keep  him  in  good-humor.  It  must,  we  fear,  be 
added  that  the  love  of  money  had  grown  upon  him,  and 
that  he  thought  more  about  his  allowances,  and  less  about 
his  duties,  than  might  have  been  expected  from  so  eminent 
a  member  of  so  noble  a  profession.  Still  he  was  perhaps 
the  ablest  officer  that  wa?:  then  to  be  found  in  the  British 
army.  Among  the  native  soldiers  his  name  was  great 
and  his  influence  unrivaled.  Nor  is  he  yet  forgotten  by 
them.  Now  and  then  a  white-bearded  old  sepoy  may  still 
be  found  who  loves  to  talk  of  Porto  Novo  and  Pollilore. 
It  is  but  a  short  time  since  one  of  those  aged  men  came 
to  present  a  memorial  to  an  English  officer,  who  holds  one 
of  the  highest  employments  in  India.  A  print  of  Coote 
hung  in  the  room.  The  veteran  recognized  at  once  that 
face  and  figure  which  he  had  not  seen  for  more  than  half 
a  century,  and,  forgetting  his  salaam  to  the  living,  halted, 
drew  himself  up,  lifted  liis  liand,  and  with  solemn  rever- 
ence paid  his  military  obeisance  to  the  dead. 

Coote,  though  he  did  not,  like  Barwcll,  vote  constantly 
with  the  Governor-Cleneral,  was  by  no  means  inclined  to 
join  in  systematic  opposition,  an<l  on  most  questions  con- 
curred with  Hastings,  who  did  his  best,  by  assiduous 
courtship,  and  by  readily  granting  the  most  exorbitant 
allowances,  to  gratify  the  strongest  passions  of  the  old 
soldier. 

It  seemed  likely  at  this  time  that  a  general  reconcilia- 
tion wouM  put  an  end  to  the  (juarrcls  which  had,  during 
some  years,  wrakencd  and  disgraced  the  government  of 
Bengal.  The  dangers  of  the  empire  might  well  induce 
men  of  patriotic  feeling — and  of  i)atriotie  feeling  neither 
Hastings  nor  Erancis  was  destitute — to  forget  private 
eiiniitie.^,  and  to  cooi)erate  heartily  for  the  general  g(»od. 
(Viote  had  never  l)een  concerned  in  faetioii.  Wlieler  was 
thoroughly  tired  of  it.  l'»arwell  1im<1  made  an  amj)le  for- 
tune, and,  tlidiigli  be  had  i)r()miserl  that  be  would  not  leave 
Calcutta  while  his  helj)  was  needed  in  (biineil,  was  most 
flesirouH  to  return  to  England,  ami  exerted  himself  to 
promote  an  arrangement  which  woidd  set  him  at  liberty. 
A  compact  was  made,  by  which  Erancis  agreed  to  desist 
from  oppf)sition,  and  Hastings  engaged  that  the  friends 
of    Erancis    should    be   admitted    to    a    fair   share   of   the 


314  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

honors  and  cniolunicnts  of  the  service.  During  a  few 
months  after  this  treaty  there  was  apparent  harmony  at 
the  council-board. 

Harmony,  indeed,  was  never  more  necessary;  for  at 
this  moment  internal  calamities,  more  formidable  than 
war  itself,  menaced  Bengal.  The  authors  of  the  Regu- 
lating Act  of  1773  had  established  two  independent 
powers,  the  one  judicial,  the  other  political;  and,  with  a 
carelessness  scandalously  common  in  English  legislation, 
had  omitted  to  define  the  limits  of  cither.  The  judges 
took  advantage  of  the  indistinctness,  and  attempted  to 
draw  to  themselves  supreme  authority,  not  only  within 
Calcutta,  but  through  the  whole  of  the  great  territory 
subject  to  the  presidency  of  Fort  William.  There  are  few 
Englishmen  who  will  not  admit  that  the  English  law,  in 
spite  of  modern  improvements,  is  neither  so  cheap  nor 
so  speedy  as  might  be  wished.  Still,  it  is  a  system  which 
has  grown  up  among  us.  In  some  points,  it  has  been 
fashioned  to  suit  our  feelings;  in  others,  it  has  gradually 
fashioned  our  feelings  to  suit  itself.  Even  to  its  worst 
evils  we  are  accustomed ;  and,  therefore,  though  we  may 
complain  of  them,  they  do  not  strike  us  with  the  horror 
and  dismay  which  would  be  produced  by  a  new  grievance 
or  smaller  severity.  In  India  the  case  is  widely  different. 
English  law,  transplanted  to  that  country,  has  all  the 
vices  from  which  we  suffer  here;  it  has  them  all  in  a  far 
higher  degree;  and  it  has  other  vices,  compared  with 
which  the  worst  vices  from  which  we  suffer  are  trifles. 
Dilatory  here,  it  is  far  more  dilatory  in  a  land  where  the 
help  of  an  interpreter  is  needed  by  every  judge  and  by 
every  advocate.  Costly  here,  it  is  far  more  costly  in  a 
land  into  which  the  legal  practitioners  must  be  imported 
from  an  immense  distance.  All  English  labor  in  India, 
from  the  labor  of  the  Governor-General  and  the  Com- 
mander-in-Chief, down  to  that  of  a  groom  or  a  watch- 
maker, must  be  paid  for  at  a  higher  rate  than  at  home. 
No  man  Avill  be  banished,  and  banished  to  the  torrid 
zone,  for  nothing.  The  rule  holds  good  with  respect  to 
the  legal  profession.  Xo  English  barrister  will  work, 
fifteen  thousand  miles  from  all  his  friends,  with  the  ther- 
mometer at  ninety-six  in  the  shade,  for  the  emoluments 
which  will   content  him   in   chambers   that   overlook   the 


WARREN  HASTINGS  315 

Thames.  Accordingly,  the  fees  at  Calcutta  are  about 
three  times  as  great  as  the  fees  of  Westminster  Hall ;  and 
this,  though  the  people  of  India  are,  beyond  all  compari- 
son, poorer  than  the  people  of  England.  Yet  the  delay 
and  the  expense,  grievous  as  they  are,  form  the  smallest 
part  of  the  evil  which  English  law,  imported  without 
modifications  into  India,  could  not  fail  to  produce.  The 
strongest  feelings  of  our  nature,  honor,  religion,  female 
modesty,  rose  up  against  the  innovation.  Arrest  on 
mesne  process  was  the  first  step  in  most  civil  proceedings ; 
and  to  a  native  of  rank  arrest  was  not  merely  a  restraint, 
but  a  foul  personal  indignity.  Oaths  were  required  in 
every  stage  of  every  suit;  and  the  feeling  of  a  Quaker 
about  an  oath  is  hardly  stronger  than  that  of  a  respect- 
able native.  That  the  apartments  of  a  wonuui  of  quality 
should  be  entered  by  strange  men,  or  that  her  face  should 
be  seen  liy  them,  are,  in  the  East,  intolerable  outrages, 
outrages  which  are  more  dreaded  than  death,  and  which 
can  be  expiated  only  by  the  shedding  of  blood.  To  these 
outrages  the  most  distinguished  families  of  Bengal, 
Bahar,  and  Orissa,  were  now  exposed.  Imagine  what  the 
state  of  our  own  country  would  be  if  a  jurisprudence 
were  on  a  sudden  introduced  among  us,  which  should  be 
to  us  what  our  jurisprudence  was  to  our  Asiatic  subjects. 
Imagine  what  the  state  of  our  country  would  be  if  it 
were  enacted  that  any  man,  by  merely  swearing  that  a 
debt  was  due  to  him,  should  ac(iuire  a  right  to  insult  the 
persons  of  men  of  the  most  honorable  and  sacred  callings 
and  of  women  of  the  most  shrinking  delicacy,  to  horse- 
whip a  general  officer,  to  put  a  bislioii  in  the  stocks,  to 
treat  ladies  in  the  way  wliich  called  forth  the  blow  of 
Wat  Tyler.  Soniething  like  this  was  the  effect  of  the 
attempt  which  tlie  Sujtreme  (/ourt  made  to  extend  its 
jurisdi<-tion  over  the  whole  of  the  Company's  territory. 

A  reign  of  terror  began,  of  terror  heightened  by  mys- 
tery; for  even  that  which  was  endured  was  less  horrible 
than  that  which  was  anticipate<l.  No  man  knew  what 
was  next  to  be  expected  from  this  strange  tribunal.  It 
came  from  beyond  thr-  blac-k  water,  as  the  people  of  India, 
with  mysterious  horror,  call  the  sen.  It  consisted  of 
judires  not  f»ne  of  whom  was  familiar  with  the  usages 
of   the   millions  over   whom    they   claimed    boundless   au- 


316  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

thority.  Its  records  were  kept  in  unknown  characters; 
its  sentences  were  pronounced  in  unknown  sounds.  It 
had  already  collected  round  itself  an  army  of  the  worst 
part  of  the  native  population,  informers,  and  false  wit- 
nesses, and  common  barrators,  and  agents  of  chicane,  and, 
above  all,  a  banditti  of  bailiffs'  followers,  compared  with 
whom  the  retainers  of  the  worst  English  sponging-houses, 
in  the  worst  times,  might  be  considered  as  upright  and 
tender-hearted.  Many  natives,  highly  considered  among 
their  countrymen,  were  seized,  hurried  up  to  Calcutta, 
flung  into  the  common  jail,  not  for  any  crime  even  im- 
puted, not  for  any  debt  that  had  been  proved,  but  merely 
as  a  precaution  till  their  cause  should  come  to  trial. 
There  were  instances  in  which  men  of  the  most  venerable 
dignity,  persecuted  without  a  cause  by  extortioners,  died 
of  rage  and  shame  in  the  grip  of  the  vile  alguazils  *  of 
Impey.  The  harems  of  noble  Mohammedans,  sanctuaries 
respected  in  the  East,  by  governments  which  respected 
nothing  else,  were  burst  open  by  gangs  of  bailiffs.  _  The 
Mussulmans,  braver  and  less  accustomed  to  submission 
than  the  Hindus,  sometimes  stood  on  their  defense;  and 
there  were  instances  in  which  they  shed  their  blood  in 
the  doorway,  while  defending,  sword  in  hand,  the  sacred 
apartments  of  their  women.  Nay,  it  seemed  as  if  even 
the  faint-hearted  Bengalee,  who  had  crouched  at  the  feet 
of  Surajah  Dowlah,  who  had  been  mute  during  the  admin- 
istration of  Vansittart,  would  at  length  find  courage  in 
despair.  No  Mahratta  invasion  had  ever  spread  through 
the  province  such  dismay  as  this  inroad  of  English  law- 
yers. All  the  injustice  of  former  oppressors,  Asiatic  and 
European,  appeared  as  a  blessing  when  compared  with 
the  justice  of  the  Supreme  Court. 

Every  class  of  the  population,  English  and  native,  with 
the  exception  of  the  ravenous  pettifoggers  who  fattened 
on  the  misery  and  terror  of  an  immense  community,  cried 
out  loudly  against  this  fearful  oppression.  But  the  judges 
w^ere  immovable.  If  a  bailiff  was  resisted,  they  ordered 
the  soldiers  to  be  called  out.  If  a  servant  of  the  Com- 
pany, in  conformity  with  the  orders  of  the  government, 
withstood    the    miserable    catchpoles    who,    with    Impey's 

•  An  inferior  oflBcer  of  justice  in  Spain  or  regions  occupied  by 
the   Spanish. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  317 

writs  in  their  hands,  exceeded  the  insolence  and  rapacity 
of  gang-robbers,  he  was  flung  into  prison  for  a  contempt. 
The  lapse  of  sixty  years,  the  virtue  and  wisdom  of  many- 
eminent  magistrates  who  have  during  that  time  adminis- 
tered justice  in  the  Supreme  Court,  have  not  effaced  from 
the  minds  of  the  people  of  Bengal  the  recollection  of  those 
evil  days.  -5 

The  members  of  the  government  were,  on  this  subject, 
united  as  one  man.  Hastings  had  courted  the  judges; 
he  had  found  them  useful  instruments.  But  he  was  not 
disposed  to  make  them  his  own  masters,  or  the  masters  of 
India.  His  mind  was  large;  his  knowledge  of  the  native 
character  most  accurate.  He  saw  that  the  system  pursued 
by  the  Supreme  Court  was  degrading  to  the  government 
and  ruinous  to  the  people;  and  he  resolved  to  oppose  it 
manfully.  The  consequence  was,  that  the  friendship,  if 
that  be  the  proper  word  frir  such  a  connection,  which  had 
existed  between  him  and  lnii)ey,  was  for  a  time  com- 
pletely dissolved.  The  government  placed  itself  firmly 
between  the  tyrannical  tribunal  and  the  people.  The 
Chief  Justice  proceeded  to  the  wildest  excesses.  The 
Governor-Ceneral  and  all  the  members  of  Council  were 
served  with  writs,  calling  on  them  to  appear  before  the 
King's  justices,  and  to  answer  for  their  i)ublic  acts.  This 
was  too  much.  Hastings,  with  just  scorn,  refused  to  obey 
the  call,  set  at  liberty  the  persons  wrongfully  detained 
by  the  Court,  and  took  measures  for  resisting  the  out- 
rageous proceedings  of  the  sheriffs'  officers,  if  necessary, 
by  the  sword.  I'ut  he  bad  in  view  anotlier  device  wbicli 
might  prevent  the  necessity  of  an  apjieal  to  arms.  Hi; 
was  seldom  at  a  loss  for  an  exjjcdient;  and  he  knew 
Impey  well.  The  exi)edient,  in  this  case,  was  a  very 
simple  one,  neitber  inort;  nor  less  than  a  bribe.  Inip(\y 
was,  by  act  of  parliament,  a  judge,  independent  of  the 
government  of  Bengal,  and  entitled  to  a  salary  of  eigbt. 
thousand  a  year.  Hastings  projiosed  to  make  him  also  a 
judge  in  the  ('onipany's  service,  removabb"  at  the  pleasure 
of  the  government  f)f  l^etigal ;  and  to  give  him,  in  that 
capacity,  abf)ut  eigbt  thousand  a  year  more.  It  was 
understood  that,  in  consideration  of  this  new  salary, 
Impey  would  desist  from  urging  the  high  pretensions  of 
his  court.     If  he  did   tirge  these  i)retensions,  the  govern- 


318  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ment  could,  at  a  moment's  notice,  eject  him  from  the  new 
place  which  had  been  created  for  him.  The  bargain  was 
struck;  Bengal  was  saved;  an  appeal  to  force  was  averted; 
and  the  Chief  Justice  was  rich,  quiet,  and  infamous. 

Of  Impey's  conduct  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak.  It  was 
of  a  piece  with  almost  every  part  of  his  conduct  that 
comes  under  the  notice  of  history.  No  other  such  judge 
has  dishonored  the  English  ermine  since  Jefferies  drank 
himself  to  death  in  the  Tower.  But  we  cannot  agree  with 
those  who  have  blamed  Hastings  for  this  transaction. 
The  case  stood  thus:  The  negligent  manner  in  which  the 
Regulating  Act  had  been  framed  put  it  in  the  power  of 
the  Chief  Justice  to  throw  a  great  country  into  the  most 
dreadful  confusion.  He  was  determined  to  use  his  power 
to  the  utmost,  unless  he  was  paid  to  be  still :  and  Hastings 
consented  to  pay  him.  The  necessity  was  to  be  deplored. 
It  is  also  to  be  deplored  that  pirates  should  be  able  to 
exact  ransom  by  threatening  to  make  their  captives  walk 
the  plank.  But  to  ransom  a  captive  from  pirates  has 
always  been  held  a  humane  and  Christian  act;  and  it 
would  be  absurd  to  charge  the  payer  of  the  ransom  with 
corrupting  the  virtue  of  the  corsair.  This,  we  seriously 
think,  is  a  not  unfair  illustration  of  the  relative  position 
of  Impey,  Hastings,  and  the  people  of  India.  Whether 
it  was  right  in  Impey  to  demand  or  to  accept  a  price  for 
powers  which,  if  they  really  belonged  to  him,  he  could 
not  abdicate,  which,  if  they  did  not  belong  to  him,  he 
ought  never  to  have  usurped,  and  which  in  neither  case 
he  could  honestly  stll,  is  one  question.  It  is  quite  another 
question,  whether  Ilastirgs  was  not  right  to  give  any 
sum,  however  large,  to  any  man,  however  worthless,  rather 
than  either  surrender  millions  of  human  beings  to  pillage, 
or  rescue  them  by  civil  war. 

Francis  strongly  opposed  this  arrangement.  It  may, 
indeed,  be  suspected  that  personal  aversion  to  Impey  was 
as  strong  a  motive  with  Francis  as  regard  for  the  welfare 
of  the  province?.  To  a  mind  l)urning  with  resentment,  it 
might  seem  better  to  leave  Bengal  to  the  oppressors  than 
to  redeem  it  by  enriching  them.  It  is  not  improbable, 
on  the  other  hand,  that  Hastings  may  have  been  the  more 
willing  to  resort  to  an  expedient  agreeable  to  the  Chief 
justice,  because  that  high  functionary  had  already  been 


WARREN  HASTINGS  319 

so  serviceable,  and  mifrht,  when  existing  dissensions  were 
composed,  be  serviceable  again. 

But  it  was  not  on  this  point  alone  that  Francis  was  now 
opposed  to  Hastings.     The  peace  between  them  proved  to 
be   only   a   short   and   hollow   truce,   during   which   their 
mutual  aversion  was  constantly  becoming  stronger.     At 
length  an  explosion  took  place.    Hastings  publicly  charged 
Francis  with  having  deceived  him,  and  with  having  in- 
duced Harwell  to  quit  the  service  by  insincere  promises. 
Then  came  a  dispute,  such  as  frequently  arises  even  be- 
tween honorable   men,   when   they   may   make   important 
agreements  by  mere  verbal  communication.    An  impartial 
historian  will  probably  be  of  opinion  that  they  had  mis- 
understood  each   other;   but   their  minds   were   so   much 
embittered  that  they  imputed  to  each  other  nothing  less 
than  deliberate  villany.     "I  do  not,"  said  Hastings,  in  a 
minute  recorded  on  the  Consultations  of  the  Government, 
"I  do  not  trust  to  Mr.  Francis's  promises  of  candor,  con- 
vinced that  he  is  incapable  of  it.     I  judge  of  his  public 
conduct  by  his  private,  which  T  have  found  to  be  void  of 
truth  and  honor."     After  the  Council  had  risen,  Francis 
put   a   challenge   into    the   Governor-General's   hand.      It 
was   instantly   accepted.      They   met,   and   fired.      Francis 
was  shot  through  the  body.     He  was  carried  to  a  neigh- 
boring house,  where  it  apiicarcd  that  the  wound,  though 
severe,    was    not    mortal.     Hastings    inquired    repeatedly 
after  his  enemy's  health,  and  i)roi)os('d  to  call  on  him;  but 
Francis  coldly  declined  the  visit.    He  had  a  proper  sense, 
ho  said,  of  the  Governor-ficneral's  politciu^ss,   but   could 
not  consent  to  any  private  interview.     'J'hey  could  meet 
only  at  the  council-board. 

In  a  very  .short  time  it  was  made  signally  manifest  to 
hnw  great  a  danger  the  CJovcrnor-Gcncral  had,  on  this 
occasion,  exposed  his  country.  A  crisis  arrived  with 
which  he,  an<l  he  alone,  was  competent  to  deal.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that,  if  be  had  been  taken  from  the 
licjid  of  affairs,  the  years  17H0  and  1781  wouUI  have  been 
as  fiital  to  our  i)o\ver  in  Asia  as  to  our  power  in  America. 
The  M;ilirattiis  liiid  Iw-en  the  chief  objei-ts  of  apprehen- 
sion to  Hastings.  The  measures  which  h<'  had  adopted 
for  the  purpose  of  breaking  their  power,  had  at  first  been 
frustrated  by  the  errors  of  those  whom   he  was  compelled 


320  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

to  employ ;  but  his  perseverance  and  ability  seemed  likely 
to  be  crowned  with  success  when  a  far  more  formidable 
danger  showed  itself  in  a  distant  quarter. 

About  thirty  years  before  this  time,  a  Mohammedan 
soldier  had  bcirun  to  distinf^uish  himself  in  the  wars  of 
Southern  India.  His  education  had  been  neglected;  his 
extraction  was  humble.  His  father  had  been  a  petty 
officer  of  revenue;  his  grandfather  a  wandering  dervish. 
But  though  thus  meanly  descended,  though  ignorant  even 
of  the  alphabet,  the  adventurer  had  no  sooner  been  placed 
at  the  head  of  a  body  of  troops  than  he  approved  himself 
a  man  born  for  conquest  and  command.  Among  the 
crowd  of  chiefs  who  were  struggling  for  a  share  of  India, 
none  could  compare  with  him  in  the  qualities  of  the  cap- 
tain and  the  statesman.  He  became  a  general;  he  became 
a  sovereign.  Out  of  the  fragments  of  old  principalities, 
which  had  gone  to  pieces  in  the  general  wreck,  he  formed 
for  himself  a  great,  compact,  and  vigorous  empire.  That 
empire  he  ruled  with  the  ability,  severity,  and  vigilance  of 
Louis  the  Eleventh.  Licentious  in  his  pleasures,  im- 
placable in  his  revenge,  he  had  yet  enlargement  of  rnind 
enough  to  perceive  how  much  the  prosperity  of  subjects 
adds  to  the  strength  of  governments.  He  was  an  op- 
pressor; but  he  had  at  least  the  merit  of  protecting  his 
people  against  all  oppression  except  his  own.  He  was 
now  in  extreme  old  age;  but  his  intellect  was  as  clear, 
and  his  spirit  as  high,  as  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  Such 
was  the  great  Tlyder  Ali,  the  founder  of  the  Mohammedan 
kingdom  of  Mysore,  and  the  most  formidable  enemy  with 
whom  the  English  conquerors  of  India  have  ever  had  to 
contend. 

Had  Hastings  been  governor  of  Madras,  Hyder  would 
have  been  either  made  a  friend,  or  vigorously  encountered 
as  an  enemy.  Unhappily  the  English  authorities  in  the 
south  provoked  their  powerful  neighbor's  hostility  with- 
out being  prepared  to  repel  it.  On  a  sudden,  an  army 
of  ninety  thousand  men,  far  superior  in  discipline  and 
efficiency  to  any  other  native  force  that  could  be  found 
in  India,  came  pouring  through  those  wild  passes  which, 
worn  by  moimtain  torrents,  and  dark  with  jungle,  lead 
down  from  the  tableland  of  Mysore  to  the  plains  of  the 
Carnatic.     This  great  army  was  accompanied  by  a  hun- 


WARREN  HASTINGS  321 

dred  pieces  of  cannon ;  and  its  movements  were  gcuidcd 
by  many  French  officers,  trained  in  the  best  military 
schools  of  Europe. 

Hyder  was  everywhere  triumphant.  The  sepoys  in 
many  British  garrisons  flung  down  their  arms.  Some 
forts  were  surrendered  hy  treachery,  and  some  by  despair. 
In  a  few  days  the  whole  open  country  north  of  the  Cole- 
roon  had  submitted.  The  English  inhabitants  of  Madras 
could  already  see  by  night,  from  the  top  of  Mount  St. 
Thomas,  the  eastern  sky  reddened  by  a  vast  semicircle  of 
blazing  villages.  The  white  villas,  to  which  our  country- 
men retire  after  the  daily  labors  of  government  and  of 
trade,  when  the  cool  evening  breeze  springs  up  from  the 
bay,  were  now  left  without  inhabitants;  for  bands  of  the 
fierce  horsemen  of  My.sore  had  already  been  seen  prowling 
among  the  tulip-trees,  and  near  the  gay  verandas.  Even 
the  town  was  not  thought  secure,  and  the  British  mer- 
chants and  public  functionaries  made  haste  to  crowd 
themselves  behind  the  cannon  of  Fort  St.  Cleorge. 

There  we.re  the  means  indeed  of  assembling  an  army 
which  might  have  defended  the  presidency,  and  even 
driven  the  invader  back  to  his  mountains.  Sir  Hector 
Munro  was  at  the  head  of  one  considerable  force;  Baillie 
was  advancing  with  another.  United,  they  might  have 
presented  a  formidable  front  even  to  such  an  enemy  as 
Hyder.  But  the  English  commanders,  neglecting  those 
fundamental  rules  of  the  military  art  of  which  the  pro- 
priety is  obvious  even  to  men  who  had  never  received  a 
military  e<lu<"ition,  deferred  tiieir  junction,  and  were  sep- 
arately attacked.  Baillie's  detachment  was  destroyed. 
Munro  was  forced  to  abandon  his  baggage,  to  fling  his 
guns  intf)  the  tanks,  and  to  save  hiniseif  by  a  retreat 
which  might  be  called  a  flight.  In  three  weeks  from  the 
commenceruent  of  tlie  war.  tlie  British  empire  in  Southern 
India  had  been  brougbt  to  the  verge  of  ruin.  Only  a  few 
fortifiefl  places  remained  to  us.  'I'lie  glory  of  our  arms 
hiii}  fleparted.  It  was  known  that  a  great  Err'nch  expedi- 
tion might  soon  be  expected  on  the  coast  of  ('oromMiidel. 
England,  beset  by  enemies  on  every  side,  was  in  no  con- 
dition to  protect  such  remf)te  dejieiidencies. 

Then  it  was  that  the  fertile  genius  and  serene  courage 
of  Hastings  achieved  their  most  signal  triumph.     A  swift 


322  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ship,  flying  before  the  southwest  monsoon,  brought  the 
evil  tidings  in  few  chiys  to  Calcutta.  In  twenty-four 
hours  the  Governor-CJcneral  had  framed  a  complete  plan 
of  policy  adapted  to  the  altered  state  of  affairs.  The 
struggle  with  ITydcr  was  a  struggle  for  life  and  death. 
All  minor  objects  must  be  sacrificed  to  the  preservation 
of  the  Carnatie.  The  disputes  with  the  Mahrattas  must 
be  accommodated.  A  large  military  force  and  a  supply 
of  money  must  be  instantly  sent  to  Madras.  But  even 
these  measures  would  be  insufficient,  unless  the  war, 
hithert_p  so  grossly  mismanaged,  were  placed  under  the 
direction  of  a  vigorous  mind.  It  was  no  time  for  trifling. 
Hastings  determined  to  resort  to  an  extreme  exercise  of 
power,  to  suspend  the  incapable  governor  of  Fort  St. 
George,  to  send  Sir  Eyre  Coote  to  oppose  Hyde.r,  and  to 
intrust  that  distinguished  general  with  the  whole  admin- 
istration of  the  war. 

In  spite  of  the  sullen  opposition  of  Francis,  who  had 
now  recovered  from  his  wound,  and  had  returned  to  the 
Council,  the  Governor-General's  wise  and  firm  policy  was 
approved  by  the  majority  of  the  board.  The  reenforce- 
ments  were  sent  off  with  great  expedition,  and  reached 
Madras  before  the  French  armament  arrived  in  the  Indian 
seas.  Coote,  broken  by  age  and  disease,  was  no  longer 
the  Coote  of  Wandewash;  but  he  was  still  a  resolute  and 
skilful  commander.  The  progress  of  Hyder  was  arrested; 
and  in  a  few  months  the  great  victory  of  Porto  Novo 
retrieved  the  honor  of  the  P^nglish  arms. 

In  the  meantime  Francis  had  returned  to  England,  and 
Hastings  was  now  left  perfectly  unfettered.  Wheler  had 
gradually  been  relaxing  in  his  opposition,  and,  after  the 
departure  of  his  vehement  and  implacable  colleague,  co- 
operated heartily  with  the  Governor-General,  whose  influ- 
ence over  the  British  in  India,  always  great,  had,  by  the 
vigor  and  success  of  his  recent  measures,  been  consider- 
ably increased. 

But,  though  the  difficulties  arising  from  factions  within 
the  Council  were  at  an  end,  another  class  of  difficulties 
had  become  more  pressing  than  ever.  The  financial  em- 
barrassment was  extreme.  Hastings  had  to  find  the 
means,  not  only  of  carrying  on  the  government  of  Bengal, 
but  of  maintaining  a  most  costly  war  against  both  Indian 


WARREX  HASTINGS  323 

and  European  enemies  in  the  Camatic,  and  of  making 
remittances  to  Enjrland.  A  few  years  before  this  time  he 
had  obtained  relief  by  phindering:  the  Mogul  and  enslav- 
ing the  Rohillas;  nor  were  the  resources  of  his  fruitful 
mind  by  any  means  exhausted. 

His  first  design  was  on  Benares,  a  city  which  in  wealth, 
population,  dignity,  and  sanctity,  was  among  the  foremost 
of  Asia.  It  was  commonly  believed  that  half  a  million 
of  human  beings  was  crowded  into  that  labyrinth  of  lofty 
alleys,  rich  with  shrines,  and  minarets,  and  balconies,  and 
carved  oriels,  to  which  the  sacred  apes  clung  by  hundreds. 
The  traveler  could  scarcely  make  his  way  through  the 
press  of  holy  mendicants  and  not  less  holy  bulls.  The 
broad  and  stately  flights  of  steps  which  descended  from 
these  swarming  haunts  to  the  bathing-places  along  the 
Ganges  were  wo.rn  every  day  by  the  footsteps  of  an  in- 
numerable multitude  of  worshipers.  The  schools  and 
temples  drew  crowds  of  pious  Hindus  from  every  province 
where  the  Erahmanical  faith  was  known.  Hundreds  of 
devotees  came  thither  every  month  to  die:  for  it  was  be- 
lieved that  a  peculiarly  happy  fate  awaited  the  man  who 
should  pass  from  the  sacred  city  into  the  sacred  river. 
Nor  was  superstition  the  only  motive  which  allured 
strangers  to  that  great  metropolis.  Commerce  had  as 
many  pilgrims  as  religion.  All  along  the  shores  of  the 
venerable  stream  lay  great  fleets  of  vessels  laden  with  rich 
merchandise.  From  the  looms  f)f  I'enares  went  forth  the 
most  delicate  silks  that  adorned  the  balls  of  St.  .Tanw^s's 
and  of  the  Petit  Trianon:  and  in  the  bazaars  the  nmslins 
of  Bengal  and  the;  sabers  of  Oudc  wen?  luinglcd  with  the 
jewels  of  Golconda  and  tbe  shawls  of  Caslmicre.  This 
rich  capital,  and  the  Hiirrf)unding  tract,  li;id  long  l)cen 
under  the  innncdiatc  rule  of  a  Hindu  prince  who  rendered 
homage  to  the  Mogid  emjxTors.  During  the  great 
anarfhy  of  India  flic  lords  of  I'enares  became  independent 
of  the  court  of  Delhi,  but  were  compelled  to  sidiinit  to 
the  authority  of  the  Nabob  of  Oude.  Opjiresscd  by  this 
formidable  neighbor,  they  invoked  the  protection  of  the 
English.  The  Knglish  protection  was  given;  and  at  length 
the  Nabob  Vizier,  by  a  solemn  treaf.v,  ceded  nil  his  rights 
over  Benares  to  the  Gonipany.  From  that  time  the  K;ijah 
was  the  vassal  of  the  government  of  Bengal,  ocknnwledge<i 


324  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

its  supremacy,  and  engagred  to  send  an  annual  tribute  to 
Fort  William.  This  tribute  Cheyte  Sing,  the  reigning 
prince,  had  paid  with  strict  punctuality. 

Respecting  the  precise  nature  of  the  legal  relation  be- 
tween the  Company  and  the  Rajah  of  Benares,  there  has 
been  much  warm  and  acute  controversy.  On  the  one  side, 
it  has  been  maintained  that  Cheyte  Sing  was  merely  a' 
great  subject  on  whom  the  superior  power  had  a  right  to 
call  for  aid  in  the  necessities  of  the  empire.  On  the 
other  side  it  has  been  contended  that  he  was  an  independ- 
ent prince,  that  the  only  claim  which  the  Company  had 
upon  him  was  for  a  fixed  tribute,  and  that,  while  the  fixed 
tribute  was  regularly  paid,  as  it  assuredly  was,  the  English 
had  no  more  .right  to  exact  any  further  contribution  from 
him  than  to  demand  subsidies  from  Holland  or  Denmark. 
Nothing  is  easier  than  to  find  precedents  and  analogies 
in  favor  of  either  view. 

Our  own  impression  is  that  neither  view  is  correct.  It 
was  too  much  the  habit  of  English  politicians  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  there  was  in  India  a  known  and  definite 
constitution  by  which  questions  of  this  kind  were  to  be 
decided.  The  truth  is  that,  during  the  interval  which 
elapsed  between  the  fall  of  the  House  of  Tamerlane  and 
the  establishment  of  the  British  ascendency,  there  was  no 
such  constitution.  The  old  order  of  things  had  passed 
away :  the  new  order  of  things  was  not  yet  formed.  All 
was  transition,  confusion,  obscurity.  Everybody  kept  his 
head  as  he  best  might,  and  scrambled  for  whatever  he 
could  get.  There  have  been  similar  seasons  in  Europe. 
The  time  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Carlovingian  empire  is 
an  instance.  Who  would  think  of  seriously  discussing  the 
question,  what  extent  of  pecuniary  aid  and  of  obedience 
Hugh  Capet  had  a  constitutional  right  to  demand  from 
the  Duke  of  Brittany  or  the  Duke  of  Normandy?  The 
words  "constitutional  right"  had,  in  that  state  of  society, 
no  meaning.  If  Hugh  Capet  laid  hands  on  all  the  pos- 
sessions of  the  Duke  of  Normandy,  this  might  be  unjust 
and  immoral;  but  it  would  not  be  illegal,  in  the  sense  in 
which  the  ordinances  of  Charles  the  Tenth  were  illegal. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Duke  of  Normandy  made  war 
on  Hugh  Capet,  this  might  be  unjust  and  immoral;  but 


WAKREN  HASTINGS  325 

it  would  not  be  illegal,  in  the  sense  in  which  the  expedi- 
tion of  Prince  Louis  Bonaparte  was  illegal. 

Very  similar  to  this  was  the  state  of  India  sixty  years 
ago.  Of  the  existing  governments  not  a  single  one  could 
lay  claim  to  legitimacy,  or  could  plead  any  other  title 
than  recent  occupation.  There  was  scarcely  a  province  in 
which  the  real  sovereignty  and  the  nominal  sovereignty 
were  not  disjoined.  Titles  and  forms  were  still  retained 
which  implied  that  the  heir  of  Tamerlane  was  an  absolute 
ruler,  and  that  the  Nabobs  of  the  provinces  were  his  lieu- 
tenants. In  reality,  he  was  a  captive.  The  Nabobs  were 
in  some  places  independent  princes.  In  other  places,  as 
in  Bengal  and  the  Carnatic,  they  had,  like  their  master, 
become  mere  phantoms,  and  the  Company  was  supreme. 
Among  the  Mahrattas  again  the  heir  of  Sevajee  still  kept 
the  title  of  Rajah;  but  he  was  a  prisoner,  and  his  prime 
minister,  the  Peshwa,  had  become  the  hereditary  chief  of 
the  state.  The  Peshwa,  in  his  turn,  was  fast  sinking  into 
the  same  degraded  situation  to  which  he  had  reduced  the 
Rajah.  It  v/as,  we  believe,  impossible  to  find,  from  the 
Himalayas  to  Mysore,  a  single  government  which  was  at 
once  a  government  de  facto  and  a  government  de  jure, 
which  possessed  the  physical  means  of  making  itself  feared 
by  its  neighbors  and  subjects,  and  which  had  at  the  same 
time  the  authority  derived  from  law  and  long  prescrip- 
tion. 

Hastings  dearly  discerned,  what  was  hidden  from  most 
of  his  contemporaries,  that  such  a  state  of  things  gave 
immense  advantages  to  a  ruler  of  great  talents  and  few 
scruples.  In  every  international  question  that  could  arise, 
he  had  his  option  between  the  dc  farfo  ground  and  the 
de  jure  ground  ;  and  the  probability  was  that  one  of  those 
grounds  wonld  sustain  any  claim  that  it  might  be  con- 
venient for  him  to  make,  and  enable  him  to  resist  any 
claim  made  l)y  others.  In  every  controversy,  accordingly, 
he  resorted  to  the  plea  which  suited  his  immediate  pur- 
pose, without  troubling  liiniself  in  tbe  leiist.  aliout  <'on- 
sistency;  and  thus  he  scarcely  ever  failed  to  find  what,  to 
persons  of  short  memories  and  scanty  information,  seemed 
to  be  a  justification  for  what  he  wanted  to  do.  Some- 
times the  Nabob  of  Bengal  is  a  shadow,  sometimes  a  mon- 
arch.    Sometimes  tiie  Vizier  is  a  mere  deputy,  sometimes 


326  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

an  independent  potentate.  If  it  is  expedient  for  the 
Company  to  show  some  legal  title  to  the  revenues  of 
Eentjiil,  the  grraiit  nnder  the  seal  of  the  Mogul  is  hrought 
forward  as  an  instrumont  of  the  highest  authority.  When 
the  IVIogul  asks  for  the  rents  which  were  reserved  to  him 
by  that  very  grant,  he  is  told  that  he  is  a  mere  pageant, 
that  the  English  power  rests  on  a  very  different  founda- 
tion from  a  charter  given  by  him,  that  he  is  welcome  to 
play  at  royalty  as  long  as  he  likes,  but  that  he  must 
expect  no  tribute  from  the  real  masters  of  India. 

It  is  true  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  others,  as  well  as 
of  Hastings,  to  practise  this  legerdemain ;  but  in  the  con- 
troversies of  governments,  sophistry  is  of  little  use  unless 
it  be  backed  by  power.  There  is  a  principle  which  Has- 
tings was  fond  of  asserting  in  the  strongest  terms,  and 
on  which  he  acted  with  undeviating  steadiness.  It  is  a 
principle  which,  we  must  own,  though  it  may  be  grossly 
abused,  can  hardly  be  disputed  in  the  present  state  of 
public  law.  It  is  this,  that  where  an  ambiguous  question 
arises  between  two  governments,  there  is,  if  they  cannot 
agree,  no  appeal  except  to  force,  and  that  the  opinion  of 
the  stronger  must  prevail.  Almost  every  question  was 
ambiguous  in  India.  The  English  government  was  Ihe 
strongest  in  India.  The  consequences  are  obvious.  The 
English  government  might  do  exactly  what  it  chose. 

The  English  government  now  chose  to  wring  money  out 
of  Cheyte  Sing.  It  had  formerly  been  convenient  to 
treat  him  as  a  sovereign  prince;  it  was  now  convenient 
to  treat  him  as  a  subject.  De.xterity  inferior  to  that  of 
Hastings  could  easily  find,  in  the  general  chaos  of  laws 
and  customs,  arguments  for  either  course.  Hastings 
wanted  a  great  supply.  It  was  known  that  Cheyte  Sing 
had  a  large  revenue,  and  it  was  suspected  that  he  had 
accumulated  a  treasure.  Nor  was  he  a  favorite  at  Cal- 
cutta. He  had,  when  the  Governor-General  was  in  great 
difficulties,  courted  the  favor  of  Francis  and  Clavering. 
Hastings  who,  less  we  believe  from  evil  passions  than  from 
policy,  seldom  left  an  injury  unpunished,  was  not  sorry 
that  the  fate  of  Cheyte  Sing  should  teach  neighboring 
princes  the  same  lesson  which  the  fate  of  Nuncomar  had 
already  impressed  on  the  inhabitants  of  Bengal. 

In    1778,   on   the  first   breaking   out   of   the   war   with 


WARREN  HASTINGS  327 

France,  Cheyte  Sing  was  called  upon  to  pay,  in  addition 
to  his  fixed  tribute,  an  extraordinary  contribution  of  fifty 
thousand  pounds.  In  1779,  an  equal  sum  was  exacted. 
In  1780,  the  demand  was  renewed.  Cheyte  Sing,  in  the 
hope  of  obtaining  some  indulgence,  secretly  offered  the 
Governor-General  a  bribe  of  twenty  thousand  pounds. 
Hastings  took  the  money,  and  his  enemies  have  main- 
tained that  he  took  it  intending  to  keep  it.  He  certainly 
concealed  the  transaction,  for  a  time,  both  from  the  Coun- 
cil in  Bengal  and  from  the  Directors  at  home;  nor  did 
he  ever  give  any  satisfactory  reason  for  the  concealment. 
Public  spirit,  or  the  fear  of  detection,  however,  deter- 
mined him  to  withstand  the  temptation.  He  paid  over 
the  bril)e  to  the  Company's  treasury,  and  insisted  that 
the  Rajah  should  instantly  comply  with  the  demands  of 
the  English  government.  The  Rajah,  after  the  fashion  of 
his  countr\'mpn,  shuffled,  solicited,  and  pleaded  poverty. 
The  grasp  of  Hastings  was  not  to  be  so  eluded.  He  added 
to  tbe  requisition  another  ten  thousand  pounds  as  a  fine 
for  delay,  and  sent  troops  to  exact  the  money. 

The  money  was  paid.  But  this  was  not  enough.  The 
late  events  in  the  south  of  India  had  increased  the 
fimmcial  embarrassments  of  the  Company.  Hastings  was 
determined  to  plunder  Cheyte  Sing,  and,  for  that  end, 
to  fasten  a  quarrel  on  him.  Accordingly,  the  Rajah  was 
now  rc<iiiin'd  to  keep  a  bo<ly  of  cavalry  for  the  service  of 
the  British  govenunent.  He  objected  and  evaded.  This 
was  exactly  what  the  Governor-General  wanted.  He  had 
now  a  pretext  for  treating  tbe  wealthiest  of  his  vassals  as 
a  criminal.  "I  resolved" — these  are  the  wonls  of  Hast- 
ings liimself — "to  draw  frf)m  liis  guilt  the  mcMiis  of  relief 
to  tlie  Company's  distresses,  to  make  him  i)ay  largely  for 
bis  pardon,  or  to  exact  a  severe  vengeance  for  past  de- 
liiKlueiiey."  The  plan  was  simply  tliis,  to  demand  larger 
and  larger  eonf ribut ions  till  tlu;  Kajah  sliould  be  driven 
to  remonstrate,  then  to  call  his  remonstrance  a  crime,  and 
to  punish  him  by  eoiifiseatiug  all  his  possessions. 

Clieyte  Sing  was  in  the  greatest  dismay.  He  offered 
two  hundred  thousaml  pounds  to  propitiate  the  Britisli 
govertmierit.  But  Hastings  replied  tliat  nothing  less  tbau 
half  a  million  would  be  a<'eepte(i.  Nay,  he  bi'gau  to  think 
of  selling  Benares  to  Oude,  as  he  had  formerly  soM  .Mia- 


328  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

habad  and  Rohilcund.  The  matter  was  one  ■which  could 
not  be  well  managed  at  a  distance;  and  Hastings  resolved 
to  visit  Bcnaies. 

Cheyte  Sing  received  his  liege  lord  vpith  every  mark  of 
reverence,  came  near  sixty  miles,  with  his  guards,  to  meet 
and  escort  the  illustrious  visitor,  and  expressed  his  deep 
concern  at  the  displeasure  of  the  English.  He  even  took 
off  his  turban,  and  laid  it  in  the  lap  of  Hastings,  a  gesture 
which  in  India  marks  the  most  profound  submission  and 
devotion.  Hastings  behaved  with  cold  and  repulsive 
severity.  Having  arrived  at  Eenarcs,  he  sent  to  the  Rajah 
a  paper  containing  the  demands  of  the  government  of 
Bengal.  The  Rajah,  in  reply,  attempted  to  clear  himself 
from  the  accusations  brought  against  him.  Hastings,  who 
wanted  money  and  not  excuses,  was  not  to  be  put  off  by 
the  ordinary  artifices  of  Eastern  negotiation.  He  in- 
stantly ordered  the  Rajah  to  be  arrested  and  placed  under 
the  custody  of  two  companies  of  sepoys. 

In  taking  these  strong  measures,  Hastings  scarcely 
showed  his  usual  judgment.  It  is  probable  that,  having 
had  little  opportunity  of  personally  observing  any  part  of 
the  population  of  India,  except  the  Bengalees,  he  was  not 
fully  aware  of  the  difference  between  their  character  and 
that  of  the  tribes  which  inhabit  the  upper  provinces.  He 
was  now  in  a  land  far  more  favorable  to  the  vigor  of  the 
human  frame  than  the  Delta  of  the  Ganges;  in  a  land 
fruitful  of  soldiers,  who  have  been  found  worthy  to  follow 
English  battalions  to  the  charge  and  into  the  breach.  The 
Rajah  was  popular  among  his  subjects.  His  administra- 
tion had  been  mild;  and  the  prosperity  of  the  district 
which  he  governed  presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the 
depressed  state  of  Bahar  under  our  rule,  and  a  still  more 
striking  contrast  to  the  misery  of  the  provinces  which 
were  cursed  by  the  tyranny  of  the  Nabob  Vizier.  The 
national  and  religious  prejudices  with  which  the  English 
were  regarded  throughout  India  were  peculiarly  intense 
in  the  metropolis  of  the  Brahmanical  superstition.  It  can 
therefore  scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  Governor-General, 
before  he  outraged  the  dignity  of  Cheyte  Sing  by  an 
arrest,  ought  to  have  assembled  a  force  capable  of  bearing 
down  all  opposition.  This  had  not  been  done.  The  hand- 
ful of  sepoys  who  attended  Hastings  would  probably  have 


WARREN  HASTINGS  329 

been  sufficient  to  overawe  Murshidabad,  oi*  the  Black 
Town  of  Calcutta.  But  they  were  unequal  to  a  conflict 
with  the  hardy  rabble  of  Benares.  The  streets  surround- 
ing the  palace  were  filled  by  an  immense  multitude,  of 
whom  a  large  proportion,  as  is  usual  in  Upper  India,  wore 
arms.  The  tumult  became  a  fight,  and  the  fight  a  mas- 
sacre. The  English  officers  defended  themselves  with 
desperate  courage  against  overwhelming  numbers,  and 
fell,  as  became  them,  sword  in  ha)id.  The  sepoys  were 
butchered.  The  gates  were  forced.  The  captive  prince, 
neglected  by  his  jailers  during  the  confusion,  discovered 
an  outlet  which  opened  on  the  precipitous  bank  of  the 
Ganges,  let  himself  down  to  the  water  by  a  string  made 
of  the  turbans  of  his  attendants,  found  a  boat,  and  es- 
caped to  the  opi)o8ite  shore. 

If  Hastings  had,  by  indiscreet  violence,  brought  him- 
self into  a  difficult  and  perilous  situation,  it  is  only  just 
to  acknowledge  that  he  extricated  himself  with  even  more 
than  his  usual  ability  and  i)rest  nee  of  mind.  He  had  only 
fifty  men  with  him.  The  building  in  which  he  had  taken 
up  his  residence  was  on  every  side  blockaded  Ity  the  in- 
surgents, lint  his  fortitude  remained  unshaken.  The 
Rajah  from  the  other  side  of  the  river  sent  apologies  and 
liberal  offers.  Tliey  were  not  even  answered.  Some  subtle 
and  ent(!.ri)ri8ing  men  were  found  who  undertook  to  pass 
through  tiie  thnjng  of  enemies,  and  to  convey  the  intelli- 
gence of  fhe  late  events  to  the  English  cantonments.  It 
is  the  fashif)!!  of  the  natives  of  India  to  wear  large  ear- 
rings of  gold.  When  they  travel,  the  rings  are  laid  aside, 
lest  the  precious  metal  should  tenij)t  some  gang  of  robbers, 
and,  in  place  of  the  ring,  a  (piill  or  a  roll  of  paper  is 
inserted  in  the  orifice  to  prevent  it  from  closing.  Has- 
tings jilaced  in  the  ears  of  his  messengers  letters  rolled 
up  in  the  smallest  compass.  Some  of  these  letters  were 
addressed  to  the  conunanders  of  the  English  troops.  One 
was  written  to  assure  his  wife  of  his  safety.  One  was  to 
the  envoy  whom  ho  had  sent  to  negotiate  with  the  Mahrat- 
tas.  Instructions  for  the  negotiation  were  needed ;  and  the 
Governor-General  framed  them  in  that  sitiiation  of  ex- 
treme danger,  with  as  much  composure  as  if  he  had  been 
writing  in  liis  palace  at  (Calcutta. 

Things,    however,    were    not    yet    at    the    worst.      An 


330  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

English  oflScer  of  more  spirit  than  judgment,  eager  to 
distinguish  himself,  made  a  premature  attack  on  the 
insurgents  heyond  the  river.  His  troops  were  entangled 
in  narrow  streets,  and  assailed  by  a  furious  population. 
He  fell,  with  many  of  his  men;  and  the  survivors  were 
forced  to  retire. 

This  event  produced  the  effect  which  has  never  failed 
to  follow  every  check,  however  slight,  sustained  in  India 
by  the  English  arms.  For  hundreds  of  miles  round,  the 
whole  country  was  in  commotion.  The  entire  population 
of  the  district  of  Benares  took  arms.  The  fields  were 
abandoned  by  the  husbandmen,  who  thronged  to  defend 
their  prince.  The  infection  spread  to  Oude.  The  op- 
pressed people  of  that  province  rose  up  against  the  Nabob 
Vizier,  refused  to  pay  their  imposts,  and  put  the  revenue 
officers  to  flight.  Even  Bahar  was  ripe  for  revolt.  The 
hopes  of  Cheyte  Sing  began  to  rise.  Instead  of  imploring 
mercy  in  the  humble  style  of  a  vassal,  he  began  to  talk 
the  language  of  a  conqueror,  and  threatened,  it  was  said, 
to  sweep  the  white  usurpers  out  of  the  land.  But  the 
English  troops  were  now  assembling  fast.  The  officers, 
and  even  the  private  men,  regarded  the  Governor-General 
with  enthusiastic  attachment,  and  flew  to  his  aid  with  an 
alacrity  which,  as  he  boasted,  had  never  been  shown  on 
any  other  occasion.  Major  Popham,  a  brave  and  skilful 
soldier,  who  had  highly  distinguished  himself  in  the 
Mahratta  war,  and  in  whom  the  Governor-General  re- 
posed the  greatest  confidence,  took  the  command.  The 
tumultuary  army  of  the  Rajah  was  put  to  rout.  His 
fastnesses  were  stormed.  In  a  few  hours,  above  thirty 
thousand  men  left  his  standard,  and  returned  to  their 
ordinary  avocations.  The  unhappy  prince  fled  from  his 
country  forever.  His  fair  domain  was  added  to  the 
British  dominions.  One  of  his  relations  indeed  was  ap- 
pointed rajah;  but  the  Rajah  of  Benares  was  henceforth 
to  be,  like  the  Nabob  of  Bengal,  a  mere  pensioner. 

By  this  revolution,  an  addition  of  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year  was  made  to  the  revenues  of  the 
Company.  But  the  immediate  relief  was  not  as  great  as 
had  been  expected.  The  treasure  laid  up  by  Cheyte  Sing 
had  been  popularly  estimated  at  a  million  sterling.  It 
turned  out  to  be  about  a  fourth  part  of  that  sum;  and. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  331 

such  as  it  was,  it  was  seized  by  the  army,  and  divided  as 
prize-money. 

Disappointed  in  his  expectations  from  Benares,  Has- 
tings was  more  violent  than  he  would  otherwise  have 
been  in  his  dealings  with  Oude.  Sujah  Dowlah  had  long 
been  dead.  His  son  and  successor,  Asaph-ul-Dowlah,  was 
one  of  the  weakest  and  most  vicious  even  of  Eastern 
princes.  His  life  was  divided  between  torpid  repose  and 
the  most  odious  forms  of  sensuality.  Tn  his  court  there 
was  boundless  waste,  tliroughout  his  dominions  wretched- 
ness and  disorder.  He  had  been,  under  the  skilful  man- 
agement of  the  English  government,  gradually  sinking 
from  the  rank  of  an  independent  prince  to  that  of  a  vassal 
of  the  Company.  It  was  only  by  the  help  of  a  British 
brigade  that  he  could  be  secure  from  the  aggressions  of 
neighbors  who  despised  his  weakness,  and  from  the 
vengeance  of  subjects  who  detested  his  tyranny.  A 
brigade  was  furnished;  and  he  engaged  to  defray  the 
charge  of  paying  and  maintaining  it.  Erom  that  time 
his  independence  was  at  an  end.  Hastings  was  not  a 
man  to  lose  the  advantage  whifh  he  had  thus  gained.  The 
Nabob  soon  began  to  complain  of  the  burden  which  he 
had  undertaken  to  bear.  His  revenues,  he  said,  were 
falling  off;  his  servants  were  unpaid;  he  fould  no  longer 
support  the  expense  of  the  arrangement  which  he  had 
sanrtioned.  Hastings  would  not  listen  to  these  repre- 
sentations. The  Vizier,  he  said,  had  invitcil  the  frovern- 
ment  of  Bengal  to  send  him  tmojis,  and  hail  ijromiscd  to 
pay  for  them.  The  troops  had  been  sent.  How  long  the 
troops  were  to  remain  in  Oude  was  a  matter  nnt  settled 
by  the  treaty.  It  remained,  therefore,  to  be  setthd  be- 
tween the  contracting  parties.  But  the  contracting  par- 
ties differed.     Who  then  must  decide?     The  stronger. 

Hastings  also  argued  that,  if  the  English  force  was 
withdrawn,  Oude  would  certainly  become  a  prey  to 
anarchy,  and  would  probably  be  overrun  by  a  Mahratta 
army.  '  That  the  finances  of  Oude  were  eml)arrassed  he 
admitted.  But  he  contended,  not  without  reason,  that  the 
embarrassment  was  to  be  attributed  to  the  incapacity  and 
vires  of  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  himself,  an<l  that,  if  less  were 
spent  on  the  troops,  the  oidy  effect  woubl  be  that  more 
would  be  squanderr '1  <>u   worthless  favorites. 


332  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Hastings  had  intended,  after  settling  tho  affairs  of 
Benares,  to  visit  Luc-know,  and  there  to  confer  with 
Asaph-ul-Dowlah.  But  the  obsequious  courtesy  of  the 
Nabob  Vizier  prevented  this  visit.  With  a  small  train  he 
hastened  to  meet  the  Governor-General.  An  interview 
took  place  in  the  fortress  which,  from  the  crest  of  the 
precipitous  rock  of  Chunar,  lookg  down  on  the  waters  of 
the  Ganges. 

At  first  sight  it  might  appear  impossible  that  the  nego- 
tiation should  come  to  an  amicable  close.  Hastings 
wanted  an  extraordinary  supply  of  money.  Asaph-ul- 
Dowlah  wanted  to  ol)tain  a  remission  of  what  he  already 
owed.  Such  a  difference  seemed  to  admit  of  no  com- 
promise. There  was,  however,  one  course  satisfactory  to 
both  sides,  one  course  by  which  it  was  possible  to  relieve 
was  adopted.  It  was  simply  this,  that  the  Governor- 
was  adopted.  It  was  simply  this,  that  the  Governor- 
General  and  the  Nabob  Vizier  should  join  to  rob  a  third 
party;  and  the  third  party  whom  they  determined  to  rob 
was  the  parent  of  one  of  the  robbers. 

The  mother  of  the  late  Nabob,  and  his  wife,  who  was 
the  mother  of  the  present  Nabob,  were  known  as  the 
Begums  or  Princesses  of  Oude.  They  had  possessed  great 
influence  over  Sujah  Dowlah,  and  had,  at  his  death,  been 
left  in  possession  of  a  splendid  dotation.  The  domains  of 
which  they  received  the  rents  and  administered  the  gov- 
ernment were  of  wide  extent.  The  treasure  hoarded  by 
the  late  Nabob,  a  treasure  which  was  popularly  estimated 
at  near  three  millions  sterling,  was  in  their  hands.  They 
continued  to  occupy  his  favorite  palace  at  Fyzabad,  the 
Beautiful  Dwelling;  while  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  held  his 
court  in  the  stately  Lucknow,  which  he  had  built  for  him- 
self on  the  shores  of  the  Goomti,  and  had  adorned  with 
noble  mosques  and  colleges. 

Asaph-ul-Dowlah  had  already  extorted  considerable 
sums  from  his  mother.  She  had  at  length  appealed  to 
the  English;  and  the  English  had  interfered.  A  solemn 
compact  had  been  made,  by  which  she  consented  to  give 
her  son  some  pecuniary  assistance,  and  he  in  his  turn 
promised  nover  to  commit  any  further  invasion  of  her 
rights.  This  compact  was  formally  guaranteed  by  the 
government  of  Bengal.     But  times  had  changed;  money 


WARREN  HASTINGS  333 

was  wanted;  and  the  power  which  had  given  the  guaran- 
tee was  not  ashamed  to  instigate  the  spoiler  to  excesses 
such  that  even  he  shrank  from  them. 

It  was  necessary  to  find  some  pretext  for  a  confiscation 
inconsistent,  not  merely  with  plighted  faith,  not  merely 
with  the  ordinary  rules  of  humanity  and  justice,  but  also 
with  that  great  law  of  filial  piety  which,  even  in  the 
wildest  tribes  of  savages,  even  in  those  more  degraded 
communities  which  wither  under  the  influence  of  a  cor- 
rupt half-civilization,  retains  a  certain  authority  over  the 
human  mind.  A  pretext  was  the  last  thing  that  Hastings 
was  likely  to  want.  The  insurrection  at  Benares  had 
produced  disturbances  in  Oude.  These  disturbances  it 
was  convenient  to  impute  to  the  Princesses.  Evidence 
for  the  imputation  there  was  scarcely  any;  unless  reports 
wandering  from  one  mouth  to  another,  and  gaining  some- 
thing by  every  transmission,  may  lie  called  evidence.  The 
accused  were  furnished  with  no  charge;  they  were  per- 
mitted to  make  no  defense;  for  the  Governor-General 
wisely  considered  that,  if  he  tried  them,  he  might  not  be 
able  to  find  a  ground  for  plundering  them.  It  was  agreed 
between  him  and  the  Nabob  Vizier  that  the  noble  ladies 
should,  by  a  sweeping  measure  of  confiscation,  be  stripped 
of  their  domaius  and  treasures  for  the  l)cnefit  of  the  (%)m- 
pany,  and  that  the  sums  thus  obtained  should  be  accepted 
liy  the  government  of  I'cugal  in  satisfaction  of  its  claims 
on  the  government  of  Oude. 

While  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  was  at  Chunar,  he  was  com- 
pletely sul)jugated  by  the  clear  and  commanding  intellect 
of  the  English  statesman.  Ikit  when  they  had  separated, 
tbf!  Vizier  began  tf)  reilect  with  uneasiness  on  the  engage- 
ment into  which  be  Imd  entered.  His  mother  and  grand- 
nif.tlier  protested  and  implored.  His  heart,  deeply  cor- 
rujited  by  absolute  power  and  licentious  pleasures,  yet  not 
naturally  unfeeling,  failed  liini  in  this  crisis.  Even  tljo 
English  resident  at  Eucluiow,  though  hitbertf*  devoted  to 
Hastings,  shrank  from  extreme  measures.  Jiut  the  Gov- 
ernor-fJeneral  was  inexorable.  He  wrote  to  the  resident 
in  terms  of  the  greatest  severity,  ami  declared  that,  if  the 
.spoliation  which  had  hern  agreed  »ipon  were;  not  instantly 
carried  into  effect,  he  witiild  himself  go  to  Lucknow,  and 


334  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

do  tliat  from  which  feebler  minds  recoil  in  dismay.  The 
resident,  thus  menaced,  waited  on  his  Highness,  and  in- 
sisted that  the  treaty  of  Cliunar  should  be  carried  into 
full  and  immediate  eflFect.  Asaph-ul-Dowlah  yielded, 
making  at  the  same  time  a  solemn  protestation  that  he 
yielded  to  compulsion.  The  lands  were  resumed;  but 
the  treasure  was  not  so  easily  obtained.  It  was  necessary 
to  use  violence.  A  body  of  the  Company's  troops  marched 
to  Fyzabad,  and  forced  the  gates  of  the  palace.  The 
Princesses  were  confined  to  their  own  apartments.  But 
still  they  refused  to  submit.  Some  more  stringent  mode 
of  coercion  was  to  be  found.  A  mode  was  found  of  which, 
even  at  this  distance  of  time,  we  cannot  speak  without 
shame  and  sorrow. 

There  were  at  Fyzabad  two  ancient  men,  belonging  to 
that  unhappy  class  which  a  practise,  of  immemorial 
antiquity  in  the  East,  has  excluded  from  the  pleasures 
of  love  and  from  the  hope  of  posterity.  It  has  always 
been  held  in  Asiatic  courts  that  beings  thus  estranged 
from  sympathy  with  their  kind  are  those  whom  princes 
may  most  safely  trust.  Sujah  Dowlah  had  been  of  this 
opinion.  He  had  given  his  entire  confidence  to  the  two 
eunuchs ;  and  after  his  death  they  remained  at  the  head 
of  the  household  of  his  widow. 

These  two  men  were,  by  the  orders  of  the  British  gov- 
ernment, seized,  imprisoned,  ironed,  starved  almost  to 
death,  in  order  to  extort  money  from  the  Princesses. 
After  they  had  been  two  months  in  confinement,  their 
health  gave  way.  They  implored  permission  to  take  a 
little  exercise  in  the  garden  of  their  prison.  The  officer 
who  was  in  charge  of  them  stated  that,  if  they  were  al- 
lowed this  indulgence,  there  was  not  the  smallest  chance 
of  their  escaping,  and  that  their  irons  really  added  noth- 
ing to  the  security  of  the  custody  in  which  they  were 
kept.  He  did  not  understand  the  plan  of  his  superiors. 
Their  object  in  these  inflictions  was  not  security  but 
torture;  and  all  mitigation  was  refused.  Yet  this  was 
not  the  worst.  It  was  resolved  by  an  English  govern- 
ment that  these  two  jnfirm  old  men  should  be  delivered  to 
the  tormentors.  For  that  purpose  they  were  removed  to 
Lucknow.  What  horrors  their  dungeon  there  witnessed 
can  only  be  guessed.     But  there  remains  on  the  records 


WARREN  HASTINGS  335 

of  Parliament,  this  letter,  written  by  a  British  resident 
to  a  British  soldier. 

"Sir,  the  Nabob  having  determined  to  inflict  corporal 
punishment  upon  the  prisoners  under  your  guard,  this  is 
to  desire  that  his  officers,  when  they  shall  come,  may  have 
free  access  to  the  prisoners,  and  be  permitted  to  do  with 
them  as  they  shall  see  proper." 

While  theSe  barbarities  were  perpetrated  at  Lucknow, 
the  Princesses  were  still  under  duress  at  Fyzabad.  Food 
was  allowed  to  enter  their  apartments  only  in  such  scanty 
quantities  that  their  female  attendants  were  in  danger  of 
perishing  with  hunger.  Month  after  month  this  cruelty 
continued,  till  at  length,  after  twelve  hundred  thousand 
pounds  had  been  wrung  out  of  the  Princesses,  Hastings 
began  to  think  that  he  had  really  got  to  the  bottom  of 
their  revenue,  and  that  no  rigor  could  extort  more.  Then 
at  length  the  wretched  men  who  were  detained  at  Lucknow 
regained  their  liberty.  Wlion  their  irons  were  knocked 
off,  and  the  doors  of  their  prison  opened,  their  quivering 
lips,  the  tears  which  ran  down  their  cheeks,  and  the 
thanksgivings  which  they  poured  forth  to  the  common 
Father  of  Mussulmans  and  Christians,  melted  even  the 
stout  hearts  of  the  English  warriors  who  stood  by. 

There  is  a  man  to  whom  the  conduct  of  Hastings, 
through  the  whole  of  these  proceedings,  appears  not  only 
excusable,  but  laudable.  There  is  a  man  who  tells  us  that 
he  "must  really  bo  pardoned  if  he  ventures  to  characterize 
as  something  preeminently  ridiculo\is  and  wicked,  the 
sensibility  which  would  balance  against  the  preservation 
of  British  India  a  little  personal  suffering,  which  was 
applied  only  so  long  as  the  s\ifferers  refused  to  <Ieliver 
lip  a  portion  of  that  wealth,  the  whole  of  wliieli  their 
own  and  their  mistresses'  treason  had  forfeited."  Wo 
cannot,  we  must  own,  envy  the  reverend  biographer, 
either  his  singular  notion  of  what  constitutes  preeminent 
wickedness,  or  his  e(|ually  singular  perception  of  the  pre- 
eminently ridieulous.  Is  this  the  generosity  of  an  English 
soldier?  Is  this  the  eharity  of  a  Christian  i»riest?  Could 
neither  of  Mr.  Oleig's  professions  teaeb  him  the  first 
rudiments  of  morality?  Or  is  morality  a  thing  which 
may  be  wf>ll  enough  in  sermons,  but  which  has  nothing 
to  do  with  biography? 


336  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

But  we  must  not  forget  to   do  justice  to   Sir  Elijah 
Impey's   conduct   on   this   occasion.      It   was   not   indeed 
easy  for  him  to   intrude  himself  into  a  business   so  en- 
tirely alien  from  all  his  official  duties.     But  there  was 
something  inexpressibly  alluring,  we  must  suppose,  in  the 
peculiar  rankness  of  the  infamy  which  was  then  to  be  got 
at  Lucknow.     He  hurried  thither  as  fast   as  relays  of 
palanquin-bearers  could  carry  him.     A  crowd  of  people 
came  before  him  with  affidavits  against  the  Begums,  ready 
drawn  in  their  hands.     Those  affidavits  he  did  not  read. 
Some  of  them,  indeed,  he  could  not  read;  for  they  were 
in  the  dialects  of  Northern  India,  and  no  interpreter  was 
employed.*     He  administered  the  oath  to  the  deponents, 
with  all  possible  expedition,  and  asked  not  a  single  ques- 
tion, not  even  whether  they  had  perused  the  statements 
to  which  they  swore.     This  work  performed,  he  got  again 
into  his  palanquin,  and  posted  back  to  Calcutta,  to  be  in 
time  for  the  opening  of  term.     The  cause  was  one  which, 
by  his  own  confession,  lay  altogether  out  of  his  jurisdic- 
tion.    Under  the  charter  of  justice,  he  had  no  more  right 
to   inquire   into    crimes    committed   by   natives    in    Oude 
than  the  Lord  President  of  the  Court  of  Sessions  of  Scot- 
land to  hold  an  assize  at  Exeter.     He  had  no  right  to  try 
the  Begums,  nor  did  he  pretend  to  try  them.     With  what 
object,  then,  did  he  \mdertake  so  long  a  journey?     Evi- 
dently in  order  that  he  might  give,  in  an  irregular  man- 
ner, that  sanction   which  in  a  regular  manner  he  could 
not  give,  to  the  crimes  of  those  who  had  recently  hired 
him;   and   in   order  that   a   confused   mass   of  testimony 
which  he  did  not  sift,  which  he  did  not  even  read,  might 
acquire  an  authority  not  properly  belonging  to  it,  from 
the  signature  of  the  highest  judicial  functionary  in  India. 
The  time  was  ap[)roaching,  however,  when  he  was  to  be 

•  This  passage  has  hoon  slightly  altered.  As  it  originally  stood, 
Sir  Elijah  Impey  was  dcsfribed  as  ignorant  of  all  the  native  lan- 
guages in  which  the  depositions  were  drawn.  A  writer  who  appar- 
ently has  had  access  to  some  private  source  of  information  has 
contradicted  this  statement,  and  has  asserted  that  Sir  Elijah  knew 
Persian  and  Bengalee.  Some  of  the  depositions  were  certainly  in 
Persian.  Those  therefore  Sir  Elijah  might  have  read  if  he  had 
chosen  to  do  so.  But  others  were  in  the  vernacular  dialects  of  Upper 
India,  with  which  it  is  not  alleged  that  he  had  any  acquaintance. 
Why  the  Bengalee  is  mentioned  it  is  not  easy  to  guess.  Bengalee  at 
Lucknow  would  have  been  as  useless  as  Portuguese  in  Switzerland. 
(Author.) 


WARREN  HASTINGS  337 

stripped  of  that  robe  which  has  never,  since  the  Revolu- 
tion, been  disgraced  so  foully  as  by  him.  The  state  of 
India  had  for  some  time  occupied  much  of  the  attention 
of  the  British  Parliament.  Toward  the  close  of  the 
American  war,  two  conunittees  of  the  Commons  sat  on 
Eastern  affairs.  In  one  Edmund  Burke  took  the  lead. 
The  other  was  under  the  presidency  of  the  able  and 
versatile  Henry  Dundas,  then  Lord  Advocate  of  Scotland. 
Great  as  are  the  changes  which,  during  the  last  sixty 
years,  have  taken  place  in  our  Asiatic  dominions,  the  re- 
ports which  those  committees  laid  on  the  table  of  the 
House  will  still  be  found  most  interesting  and  instructive. 
There  was  as  yet  no  connection  between  the  Company 
and  either  of  the  great  parties  in  the  state.  The  ministers 
had  no  motive  to  defend  Indian  abuses.  On  the  contrary, 
it  was  for  their  interest  to  show,  if  possible,  that  the  gov- 
ernment and  patronage  of  our  Oriental  empire  might, 
with  advantage,  be  transferred  to  themselves.  The  votes 
therefore,  which,  in  consequence  of  the  reports  made  by 
the  two  committees,  were  passed  by  the  Commons, 
breathed  the  spirit  of  stern  and  indignant  justice.  The 
severest  epithets  were  apjilicd  to  several  of  the  measures 
of  Hastings,  especially  to  tlie  Rohilla  war;  and  it  was 
resolved,  on  the  motion  of  Mr.  Dundas,  that  the  Company 
ought  to  recall  a  riovcrnor-Gcncral  who  had  l)rought  s>ich 
calamities  on  the  Indian  people,  and  such  dishonor  on  the 
British  name.  An  act  was  passed  for  limiting  the  juris- 
diction of  the  Supreme  Court.  The  bargain  which  Has- 
tings had  made  with  the  Cbicf  Justice  was  condcinned  in 
the  strongest  terms;  and  an  address  was  presented  to  tlic 
King,  praying  that  Impey  might  lie  ordered  home  to 
answer  for  his  misdeeds. 

Impey  was  recalled  by  a  letter  from  the  Secretary  of 
State.  But  the  proi)rietors  of  India  stock  resobitely  re- 
fused to  dismiss  Hastings  from  their  servi<'e,  and  passed 
a  resolution  affirming,  what  was  undeniably  true,  that 
they  were  intrusted  by  law  with  the  right  of  naming  and 
removing  their  Governor-CJeneral,  and  that  they  were  not 
bound  to  obey  the  directions  of  a  single  branch  of  the 
legi«lnture  with  respect  to  such  nomination  or  removal. 

Thus  supported  by  his  employers.  Hastings  remained 
at  the  head  of  the  government  of  Bengal  till  the  spring 


333  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  1785.  His  administration,  so  eventful  and  stormy, 
closed  in  almost  perfect  quiet.  In  the  Council  there  was 
no  regular  opposition  to  his  measures.  Peace  was  restored 
to  India.  The  Mahratta  war  had  ceased.  Hyder  was 
no  more.  A  treaty  had  been  concluded  with  his  son, 
Tippoo ;  and  the  Carnatic  had  been  evacuated  by  the 
armies  of  Mysore.  Since  the  termination  of  the  American 
war,  England  had  no  European  enemy  or  rival  in  the 
Eastern  seas. 

On  a  general  review  of  the  long  administration  of 
Hastings,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that,  against  the  great 
crimes  by  which  it  is  blemished,  we  have  to  set  off  great 
public  services.  England  had  passed  through  a  perilous 
crisis.  She  still,  indeed,  maintained  her  place  in  the 
foremost  rank  of  European  powers;  and  the  manner  in 
which  she  had  defended  herself  against  fearful  odds  had 
inspired  surrounding  nations  with  a  high  opinion  both 
of  her  spirit  and  of  her  strength.  Nevertheless,  in  every 
part  of  the  world,  except  one,  she  had  been  a  loser.  Not 
only  had  she  been  compelled  to  acknowledge  the  inde- 
pendence of  thirteen  colonies  peopled  by  her  children,  and 
to  conciliate  the  Irish  by  giving  up  the  right  of  legislat- 
ing for  them ;  but,  in  the  Mediterranean,  in  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  on  the  coast  of  Africa,  on  the  continent  of 
America,  she  had  been  compelled  to  cede  the  fruits  of  her 
victories  in  former  wars.  Spain  regained  Minorca  and 
Florida ;  France  regained  Senegal,  Goree,  and  several 
West  Indian  Islands.  The  only  quarter  of  the  world  in 
which  Britain  had  lost  nothing  was  the  quarter  in  which 
her  interests  had  been  committed  to  the  care  of  Hastings. 
In  spite  of  the  utmost  exertions  both  of  European  and 
Asiatic  enemies,  the  power  of  our  country  in  the  East 
had  been  greatly  augmented.  Benares  was  subjected;  the 
Nabob  Vizier  reduced  to  vassalage.  That  our  influence 
had  been  thus  extended,  nay,  that  Fort  William  and  Fort 
St.  George  had  not  been  occupied  by  hostile  armies,  was 
owing,  if  we  may  trust  the  general  voice  of  the  English 
in  India,  to  the  skill  and  resolution  of  Hastings. 

His  internal  administration,  with  all  its  blemishes, 
gives  him  a  title  to  be  considered  as  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable men  in  our  history.  He  dissolved  the  double 
government.     He  transferred  the  direction   of  affairs  to 


WARREN  HASTINGS  339 

English  hands.  Out  of  a  frightful  anarchy,  he  educed 
at  least  a  rude  and  imperfect  order.  The  whole  organiza- 
tion by  which  justice  was  dispensed,  revenue  collected, 
peace  maintained  throughout  a  territory  not  inferior  in 
population  to  the  dominions  of  Louis  the  Sixteenth  or  of 
the  Emperor  Joseph,  was  formed  and  superintended  by 
him.  He  boasted  that  every  public  office,  without  excep- 
tion, which  existed  when  he  left  Bengal,  was  his  creation. 
It  is  quite  true  that  this  system,  after  all  the  improve- 
ments suggested  by  the  experience  of  sixty  years,  still 
needs  improvement,  and  that  it  was  at  first  far  more 
defective  than  it  is  now.  But  whoever  seriously  considers 
what  it  is  to  construct  from  the  beginning  the  whole  of 
a  machine  so  vast  and  complex  as  a  government  will  allow 
that  what  Hastings  effected  deserves  high  admiration.  To 
compare  the  most  celebrated  European  ministers  to  him 
seems  to  us  as  imjust  as  it  would  be  to  compare  the  best 
baker  in  London  with  Robinson  Crusoe,  who,  before  he 
could  bake  a  single  loaf,  had  to  make  his  plow  and  his 
harrow,  his  fences  and  his  scarecrows,  his  sickle  and  his 
flail,  his  mill  and  his  oven. 

The  just  fame  of  Hastings  rises  still  higher  when  we 
reflect  that  he  was  not  bred  a  statesman ;  that  he  was 
sent  from  school  to  a  counting-house;  and  that  he  was 
employed  during  the  prime  of  his  manhood  as  a  commer- 
cial agent,  far  from  all  intellectual  society. 

Xor  must  we  forget  that  all,  or  almost  all,  to  whom, 
when  placed  at  the  head  of  affairs,  he  could  apply  for 
assistanr-e,  were  persons  who  owed  as  little  as  himself, 
or  less  than  himself,  to  education.  A  minister  in  Eiirope 
finds  himself,  on  the  first  day  on  which  he  commences 
his  functions,  surrounded  l)y  experienced  y)ublic  servants, 
the  depositaries  of  official  traditions.  Hastings  had  no 
such  help.  His  own  reflection,  his  own  energy,  were  to 
supj)ly  the  j)lace  of  all  Downing  Street  and  Somerset 
House.  Having  had  no  facilities  for  liaming,  be  was 
forced  to  teach.  He  had  first  to  ff)rm  himself,  and  then 
to  form  his  instruments;  and  this  not  in  a  single  depart- 
ment, but  in  all  the  departments  of  the  administration. 

It  must  V)C  added  that,  while  eiigage(l  in  this  most 
arduous  task,  he  was  constantly  trammeled  by  orders 
from  home,  and  freipiently  bf)rne  dowti  by  a  majority  in 


340  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

council.  The  preservation  of  an  Empire  from  a  formi- 
dable combination  of  foreign  enemies,  the  construction  of 
a  government  in  all  its  parts,  were  accomplished  by  him, 
while  every  ship  brought  out  bales  of  censure  from  his 
employers,  and  while  the  records  of  every  consultation 
were  filled  with  acrimonious  minutes  by  his  colleagues. 
We  believe  that  there  never  was  a  public  man  whose 
temper  was  so  severely  tried;  not  Marlborough,  when 
thwarted  by  the  Dutch  Deputies;  not  Wellington,  when 
he  had  to  deal  at  once  with  the  Portuguese  Regency,  the 
Spanish  Juntas,  and  Mr.  Percival.  But  the  temper  of 
Hastings  was  equal  to  almost  any  trial.  It  was  not  sweet ; 
but  it  was  calm.  Quick  and  vigorous  as  his  intellect  was, 
the  patience  with  which  he  endured  the  most  cruel  vexa- 
tions, till  a  remedy  could  be  found,  resembled  the  patience 
of  stupidity.  He  seems  to  have  been  capable  of  resent- 
ment, bitter  and  long-enduring;  yet  his  resentment  so 
seldom  hurried  him  into  any  blunder  that  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  what  appeared  to  be  revenge  was  any- 
thing but  policy. 

The  effect  of  this  singular  equanimity  was  that  he 
always  had  the  full  command  of  all  the  resources  of  one 
of  the  most  fertile  minds  that  ever  existed.  Accordingly 
no  complication  of  perils  and  embarrassments  could  per- 
plex him.  For  every  difficulty  he  had  a  contrivance  ready ; 
and,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  justice  and  humanity 
of  some  of  his  contrivances,  it  is  certain  that  they  seldom 
failed  to  serve  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  designed. 

Together  with  this  extraordinary  talent  for  devising 
expedients,  Hastings  possessed,  in  a  very  high  degree, 
another  talent  scarcely  less  necessary  to  a  man  in  his 
situation;  we  mean  the  talent  for  conducting  political 
controversy.  It  is  as  necessary  to  an  English  statesman 
in  the  East  that  he  should  be  able  to  write,  as  it  is  to  a 
minister  in  this  country  that  he  should  be  able  to  speak. 
It  is  chiefly  by  the  oratory  of  a  public  man  here  that  the 
nation  judges  of  his  powers.  It  is  from  the  letters  and 
reports  of  a  public  man  in  India  that  the  dispensers  of 
patronage  form  their  estimate  of  him.  In  each  case,  the 
talent  which  receives  peculiar  encouragement  is  developed, 
perhaps  at  the  expense  of  the  other  powers.  In  this  coun- 
try, we  sometimes  hear  men  speak  above  their  abilities. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  341 

It  is  not  very  unusual  to  find  gentlemen  in  the  Indian 
service  who  write  above  their  abilities.  The  English 
politician  is  a  little  too  much  of  a  debater;  the  Indian 
politician  a  little  too  much  of  an  essayist. 

Of  the  numerous  servants  of  the  Company  who  have 
distinguished  themselves  as  framers  of  minutes  and  des- 
patches, Hastings  stands  at  the  head.  He  was  indeed 
the  person  who  gave  to  the  official  writing  of  the  Indian 
governments  the  character  which  it  still  retains.  He  was 
matched  against  no  common  antagonist.  But  even 
Francis  was  forced  to  acknowledge,  with  sullen  and  re- 
sentful candor,  that  there  was  no  contending  against  the 
pen  of  Hastings.  And,  in  truth,  the  Governor-General's 
power  of  making  out  a  case,  of  perplexing  what  it  was 
inconvenient  that  people  should  understand,  and  of  set- 
ting in  the  clearest  point  of  view  whatever  would  bear 
the  light,  was  incomparable.  His  style  must  be  praised 
with  some  reservation.  It  was  in  general  forcible,  pure, 
and  polished;  but  it  was  sometimes,  though  not  often, 
turgid,  and  on  one  or  two  occasions,  even  bombastic. 
Perhaps  the  fondness  of  Hastings  for  Persian  literature 
may  have  tended  to  corrupt  his  taste. 

And,  since  we  have  referred  to  his  literary  tastes,  it 
would  be  most  unjust  not  to  praise  the  judicious  en- 
couragement which,  as  a  ruler,  he  gave  to  liberal  studies 
and  curious  researches.  His  patronage  was  extended, 
witli  prudent  generosity,  to  voyages,  travels,  exiieriineiits, 
publications.  He  did  little,  it  is  true,  toward  introducing 
into  India  the  lenrning  of  tbc  West.  To  make  the  young 
natives  of  Bengal  familiar  with  Milton  an<l  Adam  Smith, 
to  substitute  the  geography,  astronomy,  and  surgery  of 
Europe  for  the  dotages  f)f  the  Brabm.inical  superstition, 
or  for  the  imperfect  science  of  ancient  (ireece  transliised 
through  Arabian  expositions,  this  was  a  scbeme  reserved 
to  crown  the  beneficent  a<lmiriistration  of  a  far  more 
virtuous  niler.  Still,  it  is  imixissible  to  refuse  high  com- 
mendation to  a  man  who,  taken  from  a  ledger  to  govern 
an  empire,  overwhelmed  by  public  liusiness,  surrounded 
by  people  as  l)usy  as  liiniself,  and  separated  by  tbousands 
of  leagues  from  almost  all  literary  .society,  gave,  both  by 
his  example  and  by  his  munificence,  a  great  impulse  to 
learning.     In  Persian  and  Arabi'-  literature  he  was  deeply 


342  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

skilled.  With  the  Sanscrit  he  was  not  himself  ac- 
quainted; but  those  who  first  brought  that  language  to 
the  knowledge  of  European  students  owed  much  to  his 
encouragement.  It  was  under  his  protection  that  the 
Asiatic  Society  commenced  its  honorable  career.  That 
distinguished  body  selected  him  to  be  its  first  president; 
but,  with  excellent  taste  and  feeling,  he  declined  the 
honor  in  favor  of  Sir  William  Jones.  But  the  chief  ad- 
vantage which  the  students  of  Oriental  letters  derived 
from  his  patronage  remains  to  be  mentioned.  The 
Pundits  of  Bengal  had  always  looked  with  great  jealousy 
on  the  attempts  of  foreigners  to  pry  into  those  mysteries 
which  were  locked  up  in  the  sacred  dialect.  Their  religion 
had  been  persecuted  by  the  Mohammedans.  What  they 
knew  of  the  spirit  of  the  Portuguese  government  might 
warrant  them  in  apprehending  persecution  from  Chris- 
tians. That  apprehension,  the  wisdom  and  moderation  of 
Hastings  removed.  He  was  the  first  foreign  ruler  who 
succeeded  in  gaining  the  confidence  of  the  hereditary 
priests  of  India,  and  who  induced  them  to  lay  open  to 
English  scholars  the  secrets  of  the  old  Brahmanical 
theology  and  jurisprudence. 

It  is  indeed  impossible  to  deny  that,  in  the  great  art  of 
inspiring  large  masses  of  human  beings  with  confidence 
and  attachment,  no  ruler  ever  surpassed  Hastings.  If  he 
had  made  himself  popular  with  the  English  by  giving  up 
the  Bengalese  to  extortion  and  oppression,  or  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  had  conciliated  the  Bengalese  and  alienated 
the  English,  there  would  have  been  no  cause  for  wonder. 
What  is  peculiar  to  him  is  that,  being  the  chief  of  a  small 
band  of  strangers  who  exercised  boundless  power  over  a 
great  indigenous  population,  he  made  himself  beloved 
both  by  the  subject  many  and  by  the  dominant  few.  The 
affection  felt  for  him  by  the  civil  service  was  singularly 
ardent  and  constant.  Through  all  his  disasters  and  perils, 
his  brethren  stood  by  him  with  steadfast  loyalty.  The 
army,  at  the  same  time,  loved  him  as  armies  have  seldom 
loved  any  but  the  greatest  chiefs  who  have  led  them  to 
victory.  Even  in  his  disputes  with  distinguished  military 
men,  he  could  always  count  on  the  support  of  the  military 
profession.  While  such  was  his  empire  over  the  hearts 
of  his  countrymen,  he  enjoyed  among  the  natives  a  popu- 


WARREX  HASTINGS  343 

larity  such  as  other  governors  have  perhaps  better  mer- 
ited, but  such  as  no  other  governor  has  been  able  to 
attain.  He  spoke  their  vernacular  dialects  with  facility 
and  precision.  He  was  intimately  acquainted  with  their 
feelings  and  usages.  On  one  or  two  occasions,  for  great 
ends,  he  deliberately  acted  in  defiance  of  their  opinion; 
but  on  such  occasions  he  gained  more  in  their  respect 
than  he  lost  in  their  love.  In  general,  he  carefully  avoided 
all  that  could  shock  their  national  or  religious  prejudices. 
His  administration  was  indeed  in  many  respects  faulty; 
but  the  Bengalee  standard  of  good  government  was  not 
high.  Under  the  Nabobs,  the  hurricane  of  Mahratta 
cavalry  had  passed  annually  over  the  rich  alluvial  plain. 
But  even  the  Mahratta  shrank  from  a  conflict  with  the 
mighty  children  of  the  sea ;  and  the  immense  rice-har- 
vests of  the  Lower  Ganges  were  safely  gathered  in,  under 
the  protection  of  the  English  sword.  The  first  English 
eonriuerors  had  been  more  rapacious  and  merciless  even 
than  the  Mahrattas;  but  that  generation  had  passed  away. 
Defective  as  was  the  police,  heavy  as  were  the  public 
burdens  it  is  probable  that  the  oldest  man  in  Bengal  coidd 
not  recollect  a  season  of  equal  security  and  prosperity. 
For  the  first  time  within  living  memory,  the  province  was 
placed  under  a  government  strong  enough  to  prev(>nt 
others  from  robbing,  and  not  inclined  to  play  the  rol)ber 
itself.  These  things  insi)ired  good-will.  At  the  same 
time,  the  constant  success  of  Hastings  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  extricated  himself  from  every  difficulty  made 
him  an  object  of  superstitions  admiration;  and  the  more 
than  regal  splendor  which  he  sometimes  dispbiycd  dn/./.bvl 
a  people  who  have  miu-h  in  cotninon  with  children.  Even 
now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  fifty  years,  the  natives 
of  Inflia  still  talk  of  him  as  the  greatest  of  the  I'lnglisb: 
and  niirses  sing  children  to  sleep  with  a  jingling  Imllad 
al)oiit  the  fleet  horses  and  richly  caparisoned  elephants  of 
Snbib  Warren  Hostein. 

The  gravest  offenses  of  which  Hastings  was  guilty  did 
not  affect  bis  [)opularity  with  tlie  pcoplr*  of  F')engal ;  for 
those  offenses  were  committed  against  neigliiioring  states. 
Those  offenses,  ns  our  renders  must  have  perceived,  we 
are  not  flisposed  to  vindiciite;  yet,  in  order  that  the  cen- 
sure may  be  justly  apportioned  to  the  transgression,  it  is 


344  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

fit  that  the  motive  of  the  criminal  should  be  taken  into 
consideration.    The  motive  which  pronii)tod  the  worst  acts 
of    Hastings    was    misdirected    and    ill-rcguhited    put)lic 
spirit.     The  rules  of  justice,  the  sentiments  of  humanity, 
the  plig-hted  faith  of  treaties,  were  in  his  view  as  nothing 
when  opposed  to  the  immediate  interest  of  the  state.    This 
is  no  justification,  according  to  the  principles  either  of 
morality    or    of    what    we    believe    to    be    identical    with 
morality,    namely,    far-sighted    policy.      Nevertheless    the 
common  sense  of  mankind,  which  in  questions  of  this  sort 
seldom  goes  far  wrong,  will  always  recognize  a  distinction 
between  crimes  which  originate  in  an  inordinate  zeal  for 
the  commonwealth,  and  crimes  which  originate  in  selfish 
cupidity.     To  the  benefit  of  this  distinction  Hastings  is 
fairly  entitled.     There  is,  we  conceive,  no  reason  to  sus- 
pect that  the  Eohilla  war,  the  revolution  of  Benares,  or^ 
the  spoliation  of  the  Princess  of  Oude,  added  a  rupee  to 
his   fortune.     We  will  not  affirm   that,   in   all  pecuniary 
dealings,  he  showed  that  punctilious  integrity,  that  dread 
of  the  faintest  appearance  of  evil,  which  is  now  the  glory 
of  the  Indian  civil  service.    But  when  the  school  in  which 
he  had  been  trained  and  the  temptations  to  which  he  was 
exposed  are  considered,  we  are  more  inclined  to  praise  him 
for  his  general  uprightness  with  respect  to  money,  than 
rigidly  to  blame  him  for  a  few  transactions  which  would 
now  be  called    indelicate   and   irregular,  but   which   even 
now  would  hardly  be  designated  as  corrupt.     A  rapacious 
man  he  certainly  was  not.     Had  he  been  so,   he  would 
infallibly  have  returned  to  his  country  the  richest  subject 
in  Europe.     "We  speak  within  compass  when  we  say  that, 
without   applying  any   extraordinary   pressure,   he   might 
easily  have  obtained  from  the  zemindars  of  the  Company's 
provinces  and  from  neighboring  princes,  in  the  course  of 
thirteen   years,    more   than    three   millions   sterling,    and 
might  have  outshone  the  splendor  of  Carlton  House  and 
of  the  Palavi  Royal.    He  brought  home  a  fortune  such  as 
a  Governor-General,  fond  of  state  and  careless  of  thrift, 
might  easily,  during  so  long  a   tenure  of  office,  save  out 
of  his  legal  salary.    Mrs.  Hastings,  we  are  afraid,  was  less 
scrupulous.     It  was  generally  believed  that  she  accepted 
presents  with  groat  alacrity,  and   that  she  thus  formed, 
without  the  connivance  of  her  husband,  a  private  hoard 


WARREX  HASTINGS  345 

amounting  to  several  lacs  of  rupees.  "We  are  the  more 
inclined  to  give  credit  to  this  story  because  Mr.  Gleig, 
who  cannot  iDut  have  heard  it,  does  not,  as  far  as  we  have 
observe<l,  notice  or  contradict  it. 

The  influence  of  Mrs.  Hastings  over  her  husband  was 
indeed  such  that  she  might  easily  have  obtained  much 
larger  sums  than  ?he  was  over  accused  of  receiving.  At 
length  her  health  began  to  give  way;  and  the  Governor- 
General,  much  against  his  will,  was  compelled  to  send  her 
to  England.  He  seems  to  have  loved  her  with  that  love 
which  is  peculiar  to  men  of  strong  minds,  to  men  whose 
affection  is  not  easily  won  or  widely  difFused.  The  talk 
of  Calcutta  ran  for  some  time  on  the  luxurious  manner 
in  which  he  fitted  up  the  round-house  of  an  Indiaman 
for  her  accommodation,  on  the  profusion  of  sandalwood 
and  carved  ivory  which  adorned  her  cabin,  and  on  the 
thousands  of  rupees  which  had  been  expended  in  order  to 
procure  for  her  the  society  of  an  agreeable  female  com- 
panion during  the  voyage.  We  may  remark  here  that 
the  letters  of  Hastings  to  his  wife  are  exceedingly  char- 
acteristic. They  are  tender,  and  full  of  indications  of 
esteem  and  r-onfidence;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a  little  more 
ceremonious  than  is  usual  in  so  intimate  a  relation.  The 
solemn  courtesy  with  which  he  compliments  "his  elegant 
^fnrian"  reminds  us  now  and  then  of  the  dignified  air 
with  which  Sir  Charles  CJrandison*  bowed  over  Miss 
Byron's  hand  in  the  cedar  parlor. 

After  some  months  Hastings  proparc<l  to  follow  his  wife 
to  England.  When  it  was  announced  that  he  was  about 
to  quit  his  offico,  the  feeling  of  the  society  which  he  had 
so  long  governed  maiiifcstcfl  itself  by  many  signs.  Ad- 
dresses poured  in  from  K\iropeans  and  Asiatics,  from 
civil  fnn<'tionarics,  soldiers,  and  traders.  On  the  day  on 
which  he  dclivererl  up  the  l<<ys  of  office,  a  crf)wd  of  friends 
and  admirers  fftrined  a  lane  to  the  quay  wbere  be  em- 
barked. Several  barges  escorted  him  far  down  the  river; 
and  some  attached  friends  refused  to  quit  him  till  the 
low  coast  of  Bengal  was  fading  from  the  view,  and  till 
the  pilfit  was  leaving  the  ship. 

Of  this  voyage  little  is  known,  except  that  he  amused 
himself  with  books  and   with   bis  pen;   and   that,   among 

•Set"   foot  noli'  page    11. 'J. 


346  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

the  compositions  by  which  he  beguiled  the  tediousness  of 
that  lonj?  leisure,  was  a  pleasing  imitation  of  Horace's 
Otium  Divos  rogat*  This  little  poem  was  inscribed  to 
Mr.  Shore,  afterwards  Lord  Teignmouth,  a  man  of  whose 
integrity,  humanity,  and  honor  it  is  impossible  to  speak 
too  highly ;  but  who,  like  some  other  excellent  members 
of  the  civil  service,  extended  to  the  conduct  of  his  friend 
Hastings  an  indulgence  of  which  his  own  conduct  never 
stood  in  need. 

The  voyage  was,  for  those  times,  very  speedy.  Hastings 
was  little  more  than  four  months  on  the  sea.  In  June-, 
1785,  he  landed  at  Plymouth,  posted  to  London,  appeared 
at  Court,  paid  his  respects  in  Leadenhall  Street,  and  then 
retired  with  his  wife  to  Cheltenham. 

He  was  greatly  pleased  with  his  reception.  The  King 
treated  him  with  marked  distinction.  The  Queen,  who 
had  already  incurred  much  censure  on  account  of  the 
favor  which,  in  spite  of  the  ordinary  severity  of  her 
virtue,  she  had  shown  to  the  "elegant  Marian,"  was  not 
less  gracious  to  Hastings.  The  Directors  received  him 
in  a  solemn  sitting;  and  their  chairman  read  to  him  a 
vote  of  thanks  which  they  had  passed  without  one  dis- 
sentient voice.  "I  find  myself,"  said  Hastings,  in  a  letter 
written  about  a  quarter  of  a  year  after  his  arrival  in 
England,  "I  find  myself  everywhere,  and  universally, 
treated  with  evidences,  apparent  even  to  my  own  obser- 
vation, that  I  possess  the  good  opinion  of  my  country." 

The  confident  and  exulting  tone  of  his  correspondence 
about  this  time  is  the  more  remarkable,  because  he  had 
already  received  ample  notice  of  the  attack  which  was  in 
preparation.  Within  a  week  after  he  landed  at  Plymouth, 
Burke  gave  notice  in  the  House  of  Commons  of  a  nrotion 
seriously  afl^ecting  a  gentleman  lately  returned  from 
India.  The  session,  however,  was  then  so  far  advanced 
that  it  was  impossible  to  enter  on  so  extensive  and  im- 
portant a  subject. 

Hastings,  it  is  clear,  was  not  sensible  of  the  danger  of 
his  position.  Indeed  that  sagacity,  that  judgment,  that 
readiness  in  devising  expedients,  which  had  distinguished 
him  in  the  East,  seemed  now  to  have  forsaken  him ;  not 
that  his  abilities  were  at  all  impaired ;  not  that  he  was 
*"He  asks  the  goda  for    peace"    Horace,    Odes,    Book  II,   16. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  347 

not  still  the  same  man  who  had  triumphed  over  Francis 
and  Nuncomar,  who  had  made  the  Chief  Justice  and  the 
Nabob  Vizier  his  tools,  who  had  deposed  Cheyte  Sing, 
and  repelled  Hyder  Ali.  But  an  oak,  as  Mr.  Grattan 
finely  said,  should  not  be  transplanted  at  fifty.  A  man 
who,  havinp:  left  Enjjland  when  a  boy,  returns  to  it  after 
thirty  or  forty  years  passed  in  India,  will  find,  be  his 
talents  what  they  may,  that  he  has  much  both  to  learn 
and  to  unlearn  before  he  can  take  a  place  among  English 
statesmen.  The  working  of  a  representative  system,  the 
war  of  parties,  the  arts  of  debate,  the  influence  of  the 
press,  are  startling  novelties  to  him.  Surrounded  on  every 
side  by  new  machines  and  new  tactics,  he  is  as  much 
bewildered  as  Hannibal  would  have  been  at  Waterloo,  or 
Themistocles  at  Trafalgar.  His  very  acuteness  deludes 
him.  His  very  vigor  causes  him  to  stumble.  The  more 
correct  his  maxims,  when  applied  to  the  state  of  society 
to  which  he  is  accustomed,  the  more  certain  they  are  to 
lead  him  astray.  This  was  strikingly  the  case  with 
Hastings.  In  India  he  had  a  bad  hand ;  but  he  was  master 
of  the  game,  and  he  won  every  stake.  In  England  he  held 
excellent  cards,  if  he  had  known  how  to  play  them;  and  it 
was  chiefly  by  his  own  errors  that  he  was  brought  to  the 
verge  of  ruin. 

Of  all  his  errors  the  most  serious  was'  perhaps  the  choice 
of  a  champion.  Clive,  in  similar  circumstances,  had  made 
a  singularly  hajiity  selection,  lie  j)ut  himself  into  the 
hands  of  Wcdderburn,  afterwards  Lord  Loughl)orough, 
one  of  the  few  great  advocates  who  have  also  been  great 
in  the  House  of  Commons.  To  the  defense  of  Clive, 
therefore,  nothing  was  wanting,  neitber  learning  nor 
knowledge  of  tbe  world,  neither  forensic  acnteness  nor 
that  eloquence  which  charins  political  assemblies.  Tlas- 
lings  intrusted  his  interests  to  a  very  {litferent  jxTSon, 
a  major  in  the  T'.engal  army,  naiiicd  Scott.  This  gentle- 
man had  been  sent  over  from  India  some  time  before  as 
the  acent  of  the  Governor-General.  It  was  rumored  that 
his  serviff'H  were  rewarded  with  Oriental  munificence; 
and  we  believe  that  he  received  mncli  more  than  Hastings 
rould  conveniently  spare.  The  major  obtained  a  seat  in 
Parliament,  and  was  there  rega riled  as  the  organ  of  his 
employer.     It  was  evidently  impossible  that   a  gentleman 


348  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

80  situated  could  speak  with  the  authority  which  belongs 
to  an  independent  position.  Nor  had  the  agent  of  Has- 
tings the  talents  necessary  for  obtaining  the  ear  of  an 
assembly  which,  accustomed  to  listen  to  great  orators, 
had  naturally  become  fastidious.  He  was  always  on  his 
legs ;  he  was  very  tedious ;  and  he  had  only  one  topic,  the 
merits  and  wrongs  of  Hastings.  Everybody  who  knows 
the  House  of  Commons  will  easily  guess  what  followed. 
The  Major  was  soon  considered  as  the  greatest  bore  of  his 
time.  His  exertions  were  not  confined  to  Parliament. 
There  was  hardly  a  day  on  which  the  newspapers  did  not 
contain  some  puff  upon  Hastings  signed  Asiaticus  or 
Bengalensis,  but  known  to  be  written  by  the  indefatigable 
Scott ;  and  hardly  a  month  in  which  some  bulky  pamphlet 
on  the  same  subject,  and  from  the  same  pen,  did  not  pass 
to  the  trunk-makers  and  the  pastry-cooks.  As  to  this 
gentleman's  capacity  for  conducting  a  delicate  question 
through  Parliament,  our  readers  will  want  no  evidence 
beyond  that  which  they  will  find  in  letters  preserved  in 
these  volumes.  "We  will  give  a  single  specimen  of  his 
temper  and  judgment.  He  designated  the  greatest  man 
then  living  as  "that  reptile  Mr.  Burke." 

In  spite,  however,  of  this  unfortunate  choice,  the  gen- 
eral aspect  of  affairs  was  favorable  to  Hastings.  The 
King  was  on  his  side.  The  Company  and  its  servants 
were  zealous  in  his  cause.  Among  public  men  he  had 
many  ardent  friends.  Such  were  Lord  Mansfield,  who 
had  outlived  the  vigor  of  his  body,  but  not  that  of  his 
mind;  and  Lord  Lansdowne,  who,  though  unconnected 
with  any  party,  retained  the  importance  which  belongs  to 
great  talents  and  knowledge.  The  ministers  were  gen- 
erally believed  to  be  favorable  to  the  late  Governor-Gen- 
eral. They  owed  their  power  to  the  clamor  which  had 
been  raised  against  Mr.  Fox's  East  India  Bill.  The 
authors  of  that  bill,  when  accused  of  invading  vested 
rights,  and  of  setting  up  powers  unknown  to  the  consti- 
tution, had  defended  themselves  by  pointing  to  the  crimes 
of  Hastings,  and  by  arguing  that  abuses  so  extraordinary 
justified  extraordinary  measures.  Those  who,  by  opposing 
that  bill,  had  raised  themselves  to  the  head  of  affairs, 
would  naturally  be  inclined  to  extenuate  the  evils  which 
had  been  made  the  plea  for  administering  so  violent  a 


WARREX  HASTINGS  349 

remedy;  and  such,  in  fact,  was  their  general  disposition. 
The  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow,  in  particular,  whose  great 
place  and  force  of  intellect  gave  him  a  weight  in  the 
government  inferior  only  to  that  of  Mr.  Pitt,  espoused 
the  cause  of  Hastings  with  indecorous  violence.  Mr. 
Pitt,  though  he  had  censured  many  parts  of  the  Indian 
system,  had  studiously  abstained  from  saying  a  word 
against  the  late  chief  of  the  Indian  government.  To 
Major  Scott,  indeed,  the  young  minister  had  in  private 
extolled  Hastings  as  a  great,  a  wonderful  man,  who  had 
the  highest  claims  on  the  government.  There  was  only 
one  objection  to  granting  all  that  so  eminent  a  servant  of 
the  public,  could  ask.  The  resolution  of  censure  still 
remained  on  the  Journals  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
That  resolution  was,  indeed,  unjust;  but,  till  it  was 
rescinded,  could  the  minister  advise  the  King  to  bestow 
any  mark  of  approbation  on  the  person  censured?  If 
Major  Scott  is  to  be  trusted,  ^Ir.  Pitt  declared  that  this 
was  the  only  reason  which  prevented  the  government  from 
conferring  a  peerage  on  the  late  Oovernor-Oeneral.  Mr. 
Dundas  was  the  only  important  member  of  the  adminis- 
tration who  was  deeply  committed  to  a  different  view  of 
the  siil)ject.  He  had  moved  the  resolutions  which  created 
the  diflBculty;  but  even  from  him  little  was  to  be  appre- 
hended. Since  he  presided  over  the  committee  on  Eastern 
}iff;iirs.  great  changes  had  taken  place.  He  was  s\)r- 
rfiunded  by  new  allies;  he  had  fixed  his  hopes  on  new 
objects;  and  whatever  may  have  been  his  good  qualities, — 
and  he  had  many, — flattery  itself  never  reckoned  rigid 
consistency   in   the  number. 

From  the  ministry,  therefore,  Hastings  had  every  reason 
to  expect  support;  and  the  ministry  was  very  powerful. 
The  Opposition  was  loud  and  vcliciiicut  against  him.  Hut 
the  Opposition,  thoiigh  formidable  from  the  wimIiIi  mid 
influetu'f  (if  some  of  its  members,  and  from  tlit^  adniiralile 
talents  and  eloriuence  of  others,  was  outiminbcnil  in  par- 
liament, and  odious  throughout  the  country.  Xor.  as  far 
as  we  can  judge,  was  the  Ojiixisitiou  gcinTally  drsirous  to 
engage  in  so  serious  an  umli-rtakiug  as  the  impraclimcnt 
of  an  Indian  Governor.  Sufb  an  impeachment  must  last 
for  years  It  must  inipose  cm  the  fliiefs  of  the  party  an 
immense    load   of   labor.      Yet    it   could   scarcely,    in    any 


350  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

manner,  affect  the  event  of  the  great  political  game.  The 
followers  of  the  coalition  were  therefore  more  inclined  to 
revile  Hastings  than  to  prosecute  him.  They  lost  no  op- 
portunity of  coupling  his  name  with  the  names  of  the 
most  hateful  tyrants  of  whom  history  makes  mention. 
The  wits  of  Brooks's  aimed  their  keenest  sarcasms  both 
at  his  public  and  at  his  domestic  life.  Some  fine  dia- 
monds which  he  had  presented,  as  it  was  rumored,  to 
the  royal  family,  and  a  certain  richly  carved  ivory  bed 
which  the  Queen  had  done  him  the  honor  to  accept  from 
him,  were  favorite  subjects  of  ridicule.  One  lively  poet 
proposed  that  the  great  acts  of  the  fair  Marian's  present 
husband  sho\ild  be  immortalized  by  the  pencil  of  his  pre- 
decessor; and  that  Imhoft"  should  be  employed  to  embellish 
the  House  of  Commons  with  paintings  of  the  bleeding 
Eohillas,  of  Nuncomar  swinging,  of  Cheyte  Sing  letting 
himself  down  to  the  Ganges.  Another,  in  an  exquisitely 
humorous  parody  of  Vergil's  third  eclogue,  propounded 
the  question  what  that  mineral  could  be  of  which  the 
rays  had  power  to  make  the  most  austere  of  princesses 
the  friend  of  a  wanton.  A  third  described,  with  gay 
malevolence,  the  gorgeous  appearance  of  Mrs.  Hastings 
at  St.  James's,  the  galaxy  of  jewels,  torn  from  Indian 
Begums,  which  adorned  her  head-dress,  her  necklace 
gloaming  with  future  votes,  and  the  depending  questions 
that  shone  upon  her  ears.  Satirical  attacks  of  this  de- 
scription, and  perhaps  a  motion  for  a  vote  of  censure, 
would  have  satisfied  the  great  body  of  the  Opposition. 
But  there  were  two  men  whose  indignation  was  not  to  be 
so  appeased,  Philip  Francis  and  Edmund  Burke. 

Francis  had  recently  entered  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  had  already  established  a  character  there  for  industry 
and  talent.  He  labored  indeed  under  one  most  unfor- 
tunate defect,  want  of  fluency.  But  he  occasionally  ex- 
pressed himself  with  a  dignity  and  energy  worthy  of  the 
greatest  orators.  Before  he  had  been  many  days  in  parlia- 
ment, he  incurred  the  bitter  dislike  of  Pitt,  who  con- 
stantly treated  him  with  as  much  asperity  as  the  laws  of 
dobate  would  allow.  ISTeither  lapse  of  years  nor  change 
of  scene  had  mitigated  the  enmities  which  Francis  had 
brought  back  from  the  East.  After  his  usual  fashion,  he 
mistook  his  malevolence  for  virtue,  nursed  it,  as  preachers 


WARREX  HASTINGS  351 

tell  us  that  we  ought  to  nurse  our  good  dispositions,  and 
paraded  it,  on  all  occasions,  with  Pharisaical  ostentation. 
The  zeal  of  Burke  was  still  fiercer;  but  it  was  far  purer. 
Men  unable  to  understand  the  elevation  of  his  mind  have 
tried  to  find  out  some  discreditable  motive  for  the  ve- 
hemence and  pertinacity  which  he  showed  on  this  occasion. 
But  they  have  altogether  failed.  The  idle  stoiy  that  he 
had  some  private  slight  to  revenge  has  long  been  given 
up,  even  by  the  advocates  of  Hastings.  Mr.  Gleig  sup- 
poses that  Burke  was  actuated  by  party  spirit,  that  he 
retained  a  l)itter  remembrance  of  the  fall  of  the  coalition, 
that  he  attril)uted  that  fall  to  the  exertions  of  the  East 
India  interest,  and  that  he  considered  Hastings  as  the 
head  and  the  representative  of  that  interest.  This  ex- 
planation seems  to  be  sufficiently  refuted  by  a  reference 
to  dates.  The  hostility  of  Burke  to  Hastings  commenced 
long  before  the  coalition;  and  lasted  long  after  Burke 
had  become  a  strenuous  supporter  of  those  by  whom  the 
coalition  had  been  defeated.  It  liegan  when  Burke  and 
Fox,  closely  allied  together,  were  attacking  the  influence 
of  the  crown,  and  calling  for  peace  witli  the  American 
republic.  It  continued  till  Burke,  alienated  from  Fox, 
and  loaded  with  the  favors  of  the  crown,  died,  preaching 
a  crusade  against  the  French  republic.  It  seems  absurd 
to  attribute  to  tlie  events  of  17^4  an  enmity  which  beuan 
in  1781,  and  which  retained  undiminished  force  long  after 
persons  far  more  deeply  implicMteil  tlian  Hastings  in  the 
events  of  17.'^4  had  been  c()r(lially  forgiven.  And  wliy 
should  we  look  for  any  other  explanation  of  Burke's  con- 
duet  than  that  whidi  we  find  on  the  surface?  The  jil.iin 
truth  is  that  Hastings  bad  committed  some  great  crimes, 
and  that  tlie  thought  of  those  crimes  made  the  blood  of 
Burke  l)rti]  in  his  vr-ins.  Fnr  Burke  was  a  man  in  whom 
compassion  for  sulFering,  and  hatred  of  injustice  and 
tyranny,  were  as  strong  as  in  Las  Casas  *  or  CJarkson.f  And 
although  in  him,  as  in  Las  Casas  and  in  Clnrkson,  Ibese 
noble  feelings  were  alloyed  with  the  infirmity  wbicli  be- 
longs to  human  nature,  ho  is,  like  them,  entitled  to  this 

•  Las  Caaaa,  a  Spanish  Dominican  of  tho  10th  century,  was  famous 
as  tho  (IcffPflcr   of   tho    IiidlatiH   oKalnHt    th<'lr    forrl>;n    roiKiiHTorH. 

t  ThomnH  ClarkHon  ( 1 7<;'i-l  K.je, )  waH  nii  KukIIhIi  abolllionlBt,  the 
author  of   tho   "HlBtory  of   tho  Abolition   of   Slave  Trade." 


352  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

great  praise,  that  he  devoted  years  of  intense  labor  to  the 
service  of  a  people  with  whom  he  had  neither  blood  nor 
language,  neither  religion  nor  manners  in  common,  and 
from  whom  no  requital,  no  thanks,  no  applause  could  be 
expected. 

His  knowdedge  of  India  was  such  as  few  even  of  those 
Europeans  who  have  passed  many  years  in  that  country 
have  attained,  and  such  as  certainly  was  never  attained 
by  any  public  man  who  had  not  quitted  Europe.  He 
had  studied  the  history,  the  laws,  and  the  usages  of  the 
East  with  an  industry  such  as  is  seldom  found  united  to 
so  much  genius  and  so  much  sensibility.  Others  have 
perhaps  been  equally  laborious,  and  have  collected  an 
equal  mass  of  materials.  But  the  manner  in  which  Burke 
brought  his  higher  powers  of  intellect  to  work  on  state- 
ments of  facts,  and  on  tables  of  figures,  was  peculiar  to 
himself.  In  every  part  of  those  huge  bales  of  Indian 
information  which  repelled  almost  all  other  readers,  his 
mind,  at  once  philosophical  and  poetical,  found  something 
to  instruct  or  to  delight.  His  reason  analyzed  and  di- 
gested those  vast  and  shapeless  masses;  his  imagination 
animated  and  colored  them.  Out  of  darkness,  and  dulness, 
and  confusion,  he  formed  a  multitude  of  ingenious 
theories  and  vivid  pictures.  He  had,  in  the  highest  de- 
gree, that  nolde  faculty  whereby  man  is  able  to  live  in 
the  past  and  in  the  future,  in  the  distant  and  in  the  un- 
real. India  and  its  inhabitants  were  not  to  him,  as  to 
most  Englishmen,  mere  names  and  abstractions,  but  a  real 
country  and  a  real  people.  The  burning  sun,  the  strange 
vegetation  of  the  palm  and  the  cocoa  tree,  the  rice-field, 
the  tank,  the  huge  trees,  older  than  the  Mogul  empire, 
under  which  the  village  crowds  assemble,  the  thatched 
roof  of  the  peasant's  hut,  the  rich  tracery  of  the  mosque 
where  the  imaum  *  prays  with  his  face  to  Mecca,  the 
drums,  and  banners,  and  gaudy  idols,  the  devotees  swing- 
ing in  the  air,  the  graceful  maiden,  with  the  pitcher  on  her 
head,  descending  the  steps  to  the  river-side,  the  black 
faces,  the  long  beards,  the  yellow  streaks  of  sect,  the 
turbans  and  the  flowing  robes,  the  spears  and  the  silver 
maces,   the   elephants   with   their   canopies   of   state,   the 

♦  The  officiating  minister  in  public  prayer,  whose  words  the  people 
follow. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  353 

gorgeous  palanquin  of  the  prince,  and  the  close  litter  of 
the  noble  lady,  all  those  things  were  to  him  as  the  objects 
amidst  which  his  own  life  had  been  passed,  as  the  objects 
which  lay  on  the  road  between  Beaconsfield  and  St. 
James's  Street.  All  India  ivas  present  to  the  eye  of  his 
mind,  from  the  halls  where  suitors  laid  gold  and  perfumes 
at  the  feet  of  sovereigns  to  the  wild  moor  where  the  gipsy 
camp  was  pitched,  from  the  bazaars,  humming  like  bee- 
hives with  the  crowd  of  buyers  and  sellers,  to  the  jungle 
where  the  lonely  courier  shakes  his  bunch  of  iron  rings 
to  scare  away  the  hyenas.  He  had  just  as  lively  an  idea 
of  the  insurrection  at  Benares  as  of  Lord  George  Gor- 
don's *  riots,  and  of  the  execution  of  Nvmcomar  as  of  the 
execution  of  Dr.  Dodd.f  Oppression  in  Bengal  was  to  him 
the  same  thing  as  oppression  in  the  streets  of  London. 

He  saw  that  Hastings  had  been  guilty  of  some  most 
unjustifiable  acts.  All  that  followed  was  natural  and 
necessary  in  a  mind  like  Burke's.  His  imagination  and 
his  passions,  once  excited,  hurried  him  beyond  the  bounds 
of  justice  and  good  sense.  His  reason,  powerful  as  it  was, 
became  the  slave  of  feelings  which  it  should  have  con- 
trolled. His  indignation,  virtuous  in  its  origin,  acquired 
too  much  of  the  character  of  personal  aversion.  ITc^  could 
see  no  mitigating  circumstance,  no  redeeming  merit.  His 
temper,  whieh,  though  generous  and  afTectiouate,  had 
always  licen  irritable,  bad  now  l)een  made  almost  savage 
by  bodily  infirmities  and  mental  vexations.  Conscious 
of  great  powers  and  great  virtues,  he  found  himself,  in 
age  and  jioverty,  a  mark  for  the  hatred  of  a  perlidious 
court  and  a  deluded  people.  Iti  Parliament  his  eloquence 
was  out  of  diite.  A  young  generation,  which  knew  him 
not,  had  fdled  the  House.  \.'lienever  he  rose  to  speak, 
his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  unseemly  interruptions  of 
lads  who  were  in  their  errdles  when  his  orations  on  the 
Stamp  Aet  ejilled  forfli  tlie  apjilausc  of  the  great  Karl  of 
Chatham.  These  things  had  produced  on  his  jtroud  ami 
sensitive  spirit  an  effect  nt  which  we  cannot  wonder.    He 

•  Ia)t<\  Gi'orKc  Oordon  wiih  the  lender  of  the  o|>i>oHltlon  to  tin-  Dill 
of  ToUT.'itloii.  utid  was  trif<l  in  coiiiicclloii  wllli  the  riots  bclwceu 
bl8   party   utid    the   ("atliollcH. 

t  Wllliiiiii  Dodd  wuH  an  KiiKllnh  rlerKytnnn  and  nnfhor,  pxeouted  In 
Bpite  of  the  Intervention  of  iiiiiny  InMuentiul  frlendu,  for  forging 
the  name  of  Lord  Chcatcrndd  to  a  bond. 


354  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

could  no  longrer  discuss  any  question  with  calmness,  or 
make  allowance  for  honest  differences  of  opinion.  Tliose 
who  think  that  he  was  more  violent  and  acrimonious  in 
debates  about  India  than  on  other  occasions  are  ill  in- 
formed respecting  the  last  years  of  his  life.  In  the 
discussions  on  the  Commercial  Treaty  with  the  Court  of 
Versailles,  on  the  Regency,  on  the  French  Revolution, 
he  showed  even  more  virulence  than  in  conducting  the 
impeachment.  Indeed  it  may  be  remarked  that  the  very 
persons  who  called  him  a  mischievous  maniac,  for  con- 
demning in  burning  words  the  Rohilla  war  and  the 
spoliation  of  the  Begif^s,  exalted  him  into  a  prophet  as 
soon  as  he  be3:an  to  declaim,  with  greater  vehemence,  and 
not  with  greater  reason,  against  the  taking  of  the  Bastille 
and  the  insults  oifcred  to  Marie  Antoinette.  To  us  he 
appears  to  have  been  neither  a  maniac  in  the  former  case, 
nor  a  prophet  in  the  latter,  but  in  both  cases  a  great  and 
good  man,  led  into  extravagance  by  a  tempestuous  sensi- 
bility which  dominated  over  all  his  faculties. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  the  personal  antipathy  of 
Francis,  or  the  nobler  indignation  of  Burke,  would  have 
led  their  party  to  adopt  extreme  measures  against  Has- 
tings, if  his  own  conduct  had  been  judicious.  He  should 
have  felt  that,  great  as  his  public  services  had  been,  he 
was  not  faultless;  and  should  have  been  content  to  make 
his  escape,  without  aspiring  to  the  honors  of  a  triumph. 
He  and  his  agent  took  a  diflForent  view.  They  were  im- 
patient for  the  rewards  which,  as  they  conceived,  were 
deferred  only  till  Burke's  attack  should  be  over.  They 
accordingly  resolved  to  force  on  a  decisive  action  with  an 
enemy  for  whom,  if  they  had  been  wise,  they  would  have 
made  a  bridge  of  gold.  Oil  the  first  day  of  the  session  of 
1786,  Major  Scott  reminded  Burke  of  the  notice  given  in 
the  preceding  year,  and  asked  whether  it  was  seriously 
intended  to  bring  any  charge  against  the  late  Governor- 
General.  This  challenge  left  no  course  open  to  the  Oppo- 
sition, except  to  come  forward  as  accusers,  or  to  acknowl- 
edge themselves  calumniators.  The  administration  of 
Hastings  had  not  been  so  blameless,  nor  was  the  great 
party  of  Fox  and  North  so  feeble,  that  it  could  be  prudent 
to  venture  on  so  bold  a  defiance.  The  leaders  of  the 
Opposition  instantly  returned  the  only  answer  which  they 


WARREN  HASTINGS  355 

could  with  honor  return;  and  the  whole  party  was  ir- 
revocably pledged  to  a  prosecution, 

Burke  began  his  operations  by  applying  for  Papers. 
Some  of  the  documents  for  which  he  asked  were  refused 
by  the  ministers,  who,  in  the  debate,  held  language  such 
as  strongly  confirmed  the  prevailing  opinion,  that  they 
intended  to  support  Hastings.  In  April  the  charges  were 
laid  on  the  table.  They  had  been  drawn  by  Burke  with 
great  ability,  though  in  a  form  too  much  resembling  that 
of  a  ijamphlet.  Hastings  was  furnished  with  a  copy  of 
the  accusation;  and  it  was  intimated  to  him  that  he 
might,  if  he  thought  fit,  be  heard  in  his  own  defense  at 
the  bar  of  the  Commons. 

Here  again  Hastings  was  pursued  by  the  same  fatality 
which  had  attended  him  ever  since  the  day  when  he  set 
foot  on  English  ground.  It  seemed  to  be  decreed  that 
this  man.  so  politic  and  so  successful  in  the  East,  should 
commit  nothing  l)Ut  l)lunders  in  Europe.  Any  judicious 
adviser  would  have  told  him  that  the  best  thing  wliich  lie 
could  do  would  be  to  make  an  eloquent,  forcible,  and 
affecting  oration  at  the  bar  of  the  House;  but  that,  if 
he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and  found  it  necessary 
to  read,  he  ought  to  be  as  concise  as  possible.  Audiences 
accustomed  to  extemporaneous  debating  of  the  highest 
excellence  are  always  impatient  of  long  written  composi- 
tions. Hastings,  however,  sat  dowii  as  he  would  have  done 
at  the  Government-house  in  Bengal,  and  prepared  a  paper 
of  immense  lengtli.  Tbat  pajicr,  if  recorded  on  the  con- 
sultations of  an  Indian  administratif)n,  would  have  been 
justly  praised  as  a  very  able  minute,  l^ut  it  was  now 
out  of  place.  It  fell  flat,  as  tlie  b:  t  written  defense  must 
havf^  fallen  flat,  on  an  assembly  accustomed  to  the  ani- 
mated and  strenuous  conflicts  of  Pitt  and  Fox.  The 
members,  as  soon  as  their  curiosity  about  tlu^  face  anil 
demeanor  of  so  eminent  a  stranger  was  satisfied,  walke<l 
away  to  dinner,  aiul  left  Hastings  to  tell  his  story  till 
midnigbt  to  the  clerks  and  the  Sergeant-at-arms. 

All  preliminary  steps  having  been  duly  taken,  Burke, 
in  the  beginning  of  Tune,  lirought  forward  the  charge 
relating  to  the  Kohilla  war.  lie  ar-ted  discreetly  in  plac- 
ing this  accusation  in  the  van;  for  Dundas  had  formerly 
moved,   and   the  House  had   adripted,   a   resolution   con- 


356  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

demning,  in  the  most  severe  terms,  the  policy  followed 
by  Hastings  with  regard  to  Rohilcund.  Dundas  had  little, 
or  rather  nothing,  to  say  in  defense  of  his  own  con- 
sistency; but  he  put  a  bold  face  on  the  matter,  and 
opposed  the  motion.  Among  other  things,  he  declared 
that,  though  he  still  thought  the  Rohilla  war  unjustifiable, 
he  considered  the  services  which  Hastings  had  subse- 
quently rendered  to  the  state  as  sufficient  to  atone  even 
for  so  great  an  offense.  Pitt  did  not  speak,  but  voted  with 
Dundas;  and  Hastings  was  absolved  by  a  hundred  and 
nineteen  votes  against  sixty-seven. 

Hastings  was  now  confident  of  victory.  It  seemed,  in- 
deed, that  he  had  reason  to  be  so.  The  Rohilla  war  was, 
of  all  his  measures,  that  which  his  accusers  might  with 
greatest  advantage  assail.  It  had  been  condemned  by  the 
Court  of  Directors.  It  had  been  condemned  by  the  House 
of  Commons.  It  had  been  condemned  by  Mr.  Dundas, 
who  had  since  become  the  chief  minister  of  the  Crown 
for  Indian  affairs.  Yet  Burke,  having  chosen  this  strong 
ground,  had  been  completely  defeated  on  it.  That,  having 
failed  here,  he  should  succeed  on  any  point,  was  generally 
thought  impossible.  It  was  rumored  at  the  clubs  and 
coflFee-houses  that  one  or  perhaps  two  more  charges  would 
be  brought  forward,  that  if,  on  those  charges,  the  sense  of 
the  House  of  Commons  should  be  against  impeachment, 
the  Opposition  would  let  the  matter  drop,  that  Hastings 
would  be  immediately  raised  to  the  peerage,  decorated 
with  the  star  of  the  Bath,  sworn  of  the  privy  council,  and 
invited  to  lend  the  assistance  of  his  talents  and  experience 
to  the  India  board.  Lord  Thurlow,  indeed,  some  months 
before,  had  spoken  with  contempt  of  the  scruples  which 
r"'evented  Pitt  from  calling  Hastings  to  the  House  of 
lords;  and  had  even  said,  that  if  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  was  afraid  of  the  Commons,  there  was  nothing 
to  prevent  the  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  from  taking  the 
royal  pleasure  about  a  patent  of  peerage.  The  very  title 
was  chosen.  Hastings  was  to  be  Lord  Daylesford.  For 
through  all  changes  of  scene  and  changes  of  fortune,  re- 
mained unchanged  his  attachment  to  the  spot  which  had 
witnessed  the  greatness  and  the  fall  of  his  family,  and 
which  had  borne  so  great  a  part  in  the  first  dreams  of  his 
young  ambition. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  357 

But  in  a  very  few  days  these  fair  prospects  were  over- 
cast. On  the  thirteenth  of  June,  Mr.  Fox  brought  for- 
ward, with  great  ability  and  eloquence,  the  charge  respect- 
ing the  treatment  of  Cheyte  Sing.  Francis  followed  on 
the  same  side.  The  friends  of  Hastings  were  in  high 
spirits  when  Pitt  rose.  With  his  usual  abundance  and 
felicity  of  language,  the  Minister  gave  his  opinion  of 
the  case.  He  maintained  that  the  Governor- General  was 
justified  in  calling  on  the  Rajah  of  Benares  for  pecuniary 
assistance,  and  in  imposing  a  fine  when  the  assistance  was 
contumaciously  withheld.  He  also  thought  that  the  con- 
duct of  the  Governor-General  during  the  insurrection  had 
been  distinguished  by  ability  and  presence  of  mind.  He 
censured,  with  great  bitterness,  the  conduct  of  Francis, 
both  in  India  and  in  Parliament,  as  most  dishonest  and 
malignant.  The  necessary  inference  from  Pitt's  argu- 
ments seemed  to  be  that  Hastings  ought  to  be  honorably 
acquitted;  and  both  the  friends  and  the  opponents  of  the 
Minister  expected  from  him  a  declaration  to  that  eflfect. 
To  the  astonishment  of  all  parties,  he  concluded  by  saying 
that,  though  he  tlionght  it  right  in  Hastings  to  fine 
Cheyte  Sing  for  contumacy,  yet  the  amount  of  the  fine 
was  too  great  for  the  occasion.  On  this  ground,  and  on 
this  ground  alone,  did  Afr.  Pitt,  apjilauding  every  other 
part  of  the  conduct  of  Hastings  with  regard  to  Benares, 
declare  that  he  should  vote  in  favor  of  Mr.  Fox's  motion. 

The  House  was  thunderstruck;  and  it  well  might  be  so. 
For  the  wrong  done  to  Cheyte  Sing,  even  had  it  been  as 
flagitious  as  Fox  and  Francis  contended,  was  a  trifle  when 
compared  witli  the  horrors  whieh  had  been  inflicted  on 
Rohilcund.  liut  if  Mr.  Pitt's  view  of  thci  case  of  Cheyte 
Sing  was  correct,  there  was  no  ground  for  an  impeach- 
ment, or  even  for  a  vote  of  censure.  If  tlie  ofTeuse  of 
Hastings  was  really  no  more  than  this,  tliat,  having  a 
right  to  impose  a  mulct,  the  amount  of  which  mulct  wa8 
not  defined,  hut  was  left  to  be  settlecj  by  his  discretion, 
he  had,  not  for  his  own  advantage,  l)ut  for  that  of  the 
state,  demanded  too  much,  was  this  an  offense  which  re- 
quired criniin;d  jiroceeding  of  the  highest  solemnity,  a 
criminal  proceeding,  to  which,  during  sixty  years,  no 
public  functif>niiry  had  been  subjected?  We  can  see,  we 
think,  in  what  way  a   u\:\u   of  sense  atid   integrity  might 


358  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

have  been  induced  to  take  any  course  respecting  Hastings, 
except  the  course  which  Mr.  Pitt  took.  Such  a  man  might 
have  thought  a  great  example  necessary,  for  the  prevent- 
ing of  injustice,  and  for  the  vindicating  of  the  national 
honor,  and  might,  on  that  ground,  have  voted  for  im- 
peachment both  on  the  Rohilla  charge  and  on  the  Benares 
charge.  Such  a  man  might  have  thought  that  the  offenses 
of  Hastings  had  been  atoned  for  by  great  services,  and 
might,  on  that  ground,  have  voted  against  the  impeach- 
ment, on  both  charges.  With  great  diffidence,  we  give  it 
as  our  opinion  that  the  most  correct  course  would,  on  the 
whole,  have  been  to  impeach  on  the  Rohilla  charge,  and 
to  acquit  on  the  Benares  charge.  Had  the  Benares  charge 
appeared  to  us  in  the  same  light  in  which  it  appeared  to 
]\Ir.  Pitt,  we  should,  without  hesitation,  have  voted  for 
acquittal  on  that  charge.  The  one  course  which  it  is  in- 
conceivable that  any  man  of  a  tenth  part  of  Mr.  Pitt's 
abilities  can  have  honestly  taken  was  the  course  which  he 
took.  He  acquitted  Hastings  on  the  Rohilla  charge.  He 
softened  down  the  Benares  charge  till  it  became  no  charge 
at  all;  and  then  he  pronounced  that  it  contained  matter 
for  impeachment. 

Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  the  principal  reason  as- 
signed by  the  ministry  for  not  impeaching  Hastings  on 
account  of  the  Rohilla  war  was  this,  that  the  delinquencies 
of  the  early  part  of  his  administration  had  been  atoned 
for  by  the  excellence  of  the  later  part.  Was  it  not  most 
extraordinary  that  men  who  had  hold  this  language  could 
afterwards  vote  that  the  later  part  of  his  administration 
furnished  matter  for  no  less  than  twenty  articles  of  im- 
peachment? They  first  represented  the  conduct  of  Has- 
tings in  1780  and  ITSI  as  so  highly  meritorious  that,  like 
works  of  supererogation  in  the  Catholic  theology,  it  ought 
to  be  efficacious  for  the  canceling  of  former  offenses; 
and  they  then  prosecuted  him  for  his  conduct  in  1780  and 
1781. 

The  general  astonishment  was  the  greater,  because,  only 
twenty-four  hours  before,  the  members  on  whom  the  min- 
ister could  depend  had  received  the  usual  notes  from  the 
Treasury,  begging  them  to  be  in  their  y)laces  and  to  vote 
against  Mr.  Fox's  motion.  It  was  asserted  by  Mr.  Has- 
tings that,  early  on  the  morning  of  the  very  day  on  which 


WARREN  HASTINGS  359 

the  debate  took  place,  Dundas  called  on  Pitt,  woke  him, 
and  was  closeted  with  him  many  hours.  The  result  of  this 
conference  was  a  determination  to  give  up  the  late  Gov- 
ernor-General to  the  vengeance  of  the  Opposition.  It  was 
impossible  even  for  the  most  powerful  minister  to  carry- 
all his  followers  with  him  in  so  strange  a  course.  Several 
persons  high  in  office,  the  Attorney-General,  Mr.  Glenyille, 
and  Lord  Mulgrave  divided  against  Mr.  Pitt.  But  the 
devoted  adherents  who  stood  by  the  head  of  the  gov- 
ernment without  asking  questions,  were  sufficiently  nu- 
merous to  turn  the  scale.  A  hundred  and  nineteen  mem- 
bers voted  for  Mr.  Fox's  motion;  seventy-nine  against  it, 
Dundas  silently  followed  Pitt. 

That  good  and  great  man,  the  late  William  Wilberforce, 
often  related  the  events  of  this  remarkal)le  night.  He 
described  the  amazement  of  the  House,  and  the  bitter 
reflections  which  were  muttered  against  the  Prime  Min- 
ister by  some  of  the  hal)itual  supporters  of  the  govern- 
ment. Pitt  himself  appeared  to  feel  that  his  conduct 
refpiired  some  explanation.  He  left  the  treasury  bench, 
sat  for  some  time  next  to  Mr.  Wilberforce,  and  very 
earnestly  declared  that  he  had  found  it  impossible,  as  a 
man  of  conscience,  to  stand  any  longer  l)y  Hastings. 
The  business,  he  said,  was  too  bad.  Mr.  Wilberforce,  we 
are  bound  to  add,  fully  believed  that  his  friend  was  sin- 
cere, and  that  the  suspicions  to  which  this  mysterious 
afTair  gave  rise  were  altogether  unfounded. 

Those  suspicions,  indeed,  were  such  as  it  is  painful  to 
mention.  The  friends  of  Hastings,  most  of  whom,  it  is 
to  be  ol)serve(l,  generally  supixirtcd  tlie  iiduiiiiistration, 
affirmed  that  the  motive  of  Pitt  and  Dundas  was  jealousy. 
Hastings  was  personally  a  favorite  with  the  king.  He 
was  the  idol  of  thr>  East  India  Company  and  of  its 
servants.  H  be  were  absolved  by  the  Commons,  seated 
among  the  Lords,  jiditiitted  to  the  ]'>oard  of  Contrr)!. 
closely  allie<l  with  the  strong-minded  and  imperious 
Thuriow,  was  it  not  almost  certain  that  he  would  soon 
draw  to  himself  the  entire  management  of  Eastern 
affairs?  Was  it  not  possilile  that  be  might  become  a 
formidable  rival  in  the  caliinet?  It  had  probably  got 
abrorul  tbiit  very  singular  eoitimunications  had  takcni 
place  between  Tburlow  and  Major  Seott,  and  that,  if  the 


360  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

First  Lord  of  the  Treasury  was  afraid  to  recommend 
Hastings  for  a  peerage,  the  Chancellor  was  ready  to  take 
the  responsibility  of  that  step  on  himself.  Of  all  min- 
isters, Pitt  was  the  least  likely  to  submit  with  patience  to 
such  an  encroachment  on  his  functions.  If  the  Com- 
mons impeached  Hastings,  all  danger  was  at  an  end. 
The  proceeding,  however  it  might  terminate,  would  prob- 
ably last  some  years.  In  the  mean  time,  the  accused 
person  would  be  excluded  from  honors  and  public  em- 
ployments, and  could  scarcely  venture  even  to  pay  his 
duty  at  court.  Such  were  the  motives  attributed  by  a 
great  part  of  the  public  to  the  young  minister,  whose 
ruling  passion  was  generally  believed  to  be  avarice  of 
power. 

The  prorogation  soon  interrupted  the  discussion  re- 
specting Hastings.  In  the  following  year,  those  discus- 
sions were  resumed.  The  charge  touching  the  spoliation 
of  the  Begums  was  brought  forward  by  Sheridan,  in  a 
speech  which  was  so  imperfectly  reported  that  it  may  be 
said  to  be  wholly  lost,  but  which  was,  without  doubt,  the 
most  elaborately  brilliant  of  all  the  productions  of  his 
ingenious  mind.  The  impression  which  it  produced  was 
such  as  has  never  been  equaled.  He  sat  down,  not  merely 
amidst  cheering,  but  amidst  the  loud  clapping  of  hands,  in 
which  the  Lords  below  the  bar  and  the  strangers  in  the 
gallery  joined.  The  excitement  of  the  House  was  such 
that  no  other  speaker  could  obtain  a  hearing;  and  the 
debate  was  adjourned.  The  ferment  spread  fast  through 
the  town.  Within  four  and  twenty  hours,  Sheridan  was 
offered  a  thousand  pounds  for  the  copyright  of  the  speech, 
if  he  would  himself  correct  it  for  the  press.  The  impres- 
sion made  by  this  remarkable  display  of  eloquence  on 
severe  and  experienced  critics,  whose  discernment  may  be 
supposed  to  have  been  quickened  by  emulation,  was  deep 
and  pennanent.  Mr.  Wyndham,  twenty  years  later,  said 
that  the  speech  deserved  all  its  fame,  and  was,  in  spite 
of  some  faults  of  taste,  such  as  were  seldom  wanting 
either  in  the  literary  or  in  the  parliamentary  performances 
of  Sheridan,  the  finest  that  had  been  delivered  within  the 
memory  of  man.  Mr.  Fox,  about  the  same  time,  being 
asked  by  the  lato  Lord  Holland  what  was  the  best  speech 
ever  made  in  the  House  of  Commons,  assigned  the  first 


WARKEN  HASTINGS  361 

place,  without  hesitation,  to  the  great  oration  of  Sheridan 
on  the  Oude  charge. 

When  the  debate  was  resumed,  the  tide  ran  so  strongly 
against  the  accused  that  his  friends  were  coughed  and 
scraped  down.  Pitt  declared  himself  for  Sheridan's  mo- 
tion; and  the  question  was  carried  by  a  hundred  and 
seventy-five  votes  against  sixty-eight. 

The  Opposition  flushed  with  victory  and  strongly  sup- 
ported by  the  public  sympathy,  proceeded  to  bring  forward 
a  succession  of  charges  relating  chiefly  to  pecuniary  trans- 
actions. The  friends  of  Hastings  were  discouraged,  and, 
having  now  no  hope  of  being  able  to  avert  an  impeachment, 
were  not  very  strenuous  in  their  exertions.  At  lengtli  the 
House,  having  agreed  to  twenty  articles  of  charge,  di- 
rected Burke  to  go  before  the  Lords,  and  to  imi)each  the 
late  Governor-General  of  High  Crimes  and  ^Misdemeanors. 
Hastings  was  at  the  same  time  arrested  by  the  Sergeant- 
at-arms,  and  carried  to  the  bar  of  the  Peers. 

The  session  was  now  within  ten  days  of  its  close.  It 
was.  therefore,  impossilde  that  any  progress  could  be 
made  in  the  trial  till  the  next  year.  Hastings  was  ad- 
mitted to  bail;  and  further  proceedings  were  postponed 
till   the  House  should  reassemble. 

Whon  Parliament  met  in  tlie  follf)wing  winter,  the 
Commons  proet'cdcd  to  elect  a  committee  for  managing 
the  impeachment.  Burke  stood  at  the  head;  and  with 
him  were  associated  most  of  thf>  leading  members  of  the 
Opposition.  But  when  tlic  name  of  Frjiiicis  was  read  a 
fierce  contention  arose.  It  was  said  that  Fraiu-is  and 
Hastings  were  notoriously  on  bad  terms,  that  they  had 
been  at  feud  during  many  years,  that  on  one  occiasion 
their  mutual  aversion  had  iinipcllrd  tbem  to  seek  each 
other's  lives,  and  that  it  would  i)e  improi)er  and  indelicate 
to  select  a  private  enemy  to  be  a  juiblic  iu-cuser.  It  was 
urged  on  the  other  side  with  great  force,  particidarly  by 
Mr.  Wyndhani,  that  impartiality,  though  the  first  duty  of 
a  judge,  h;id  never  lieen  reckoned  among  tlie  (pialities  of 
an  advocate;  that  in  the  ordinary  administration  of 
criminal  justice  among  the  English,  the  agtrrieved  party, 
the  very  last  person  wlio  ought  to  i)e  admitted  into  the 
jury-box,  is  the  prosecutor;  tliat  what  was  wanted  in  a 
manager  was,  not  that  he  should  be  free  from  liias,  but 


362  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

that  he  should  be  able,  well  informed,  energetic,  and 
active.  The  ability  and  information  of  Francis  were  ad- 
mitted; and  the  very  animosity  with  which  he  was  re- 
proached, whether  a  virtue  or  a  vice,  was  at  least  a  pledge 
for  his  energy  and  activity.  It  seems  difficult  to  refute 
these  arguments.  But  the  inveterate  hatred  borne  by 
Francis  to  Hastings  had  excited  general  disgust.  The 
House  decided  that  Francis  should  not  be  a  manager. 
Pitt  voted  with  the  majority,  Dunrlas  with  the  minority. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  preparations  for  the  trial  had 
proceeded  rapidly;  and  on  the  thirteenth  of  February, 
1788,  the  sittings  of  the  Court  commenced.  There  have 
been  spectacles  more  dazzling  to  the  eye,  more  gorgeous 
with  jewelry  and  cloth  of  gold,  more  attractive  to  grown- 
up children,  than  that  which  was  then  exhibited  at  West- 
minster; but,  perhaps,  there  never  was  a  spectacle  so  well 
calculated  to  strike  a  highly  cultivated,  a  reflecting,  an 
imaginative  mind.  All  the  various  kinds  of  interest 
which  belong  to  the  near  and  to  the  distant,  to  the  present 
and  to  the  past,  were  collected  on  one  spot,  and  in  one 
hour.  All  the  talents  and  all  the  accomplishments  which 
are  developed  by  liberty  and  civilization  were  now  dis- 
played, with  every  advantage  that  could  be  derived  both 
from  cooperation  and  from  contrast.  Every  step  in  the 
proceedings  carried  the  mind  either  backward,  throiigh 
many  troubled  centuries,  to  the  days  when  the  foundations 
of  our  constitution  were  laid ;  or  far  away,  over  boundless 
seas  and  deserts,  to  dusky  nations  living  under  strange 
stars,  worshiping  strange  gods,  and  writing  strange 
characters  from  right  to  left.  The  High  Court  of  Parlia- 
ment was  to  sit,  according  to  forms  handed  down  from  the 
days  of  the  Plantagenets,  on  an  Englishman  accused  of  ex- 
ercising tyranny  over  the  lord  of  the  holy  city  of  Benares, 
and  over  the  ladies  of  the  princely  house  of  Oude. 

The  place  was  worthy  of  such  a  trial.  It  was  the  great 
hall  of  W^illiam  Rufus,  the  hall  which  had  resounded  with 
acclamations  at  the  inauguration  of  thirty  kings,  the  hall 
which  had  witnessed  the  just  sentence  of  Bacon  and  the 
just  absolution  of  Somers,  the  hall  where  the  eloquence  of 
Strafford  had  for  a  moment  awed  and  melted  a  victorious 
party  inflamed  with  just  resentment,  the  hall  where 
Charles  had  confronted  the  High  Court  of  Justice  with 


WARREN  HASTINGS  363 

the  placid  courage  which  has  half  redeemed  his  fame. 
Neither  military  nor  civil  pomp  was  wanting.  The 
avenues  were  lined  with  grenadiers.  The  streets  were  kept 
clear  by  cavalry.  The  peers,  robed  in  gold  and  ermine, 
were  marshaled  by  the  heralds  under  Garter  King-at- 
arms.  The  judges  in  their  vestments  of  state  attended  to 
give  advice  on  points  of  law.  Near  a  hundred  and  seventy 
lords,  three  fourths  of  the  Upper  House  as  the  Upper 
House  then  was,  walked  in  solemn  order  from  their  usual 
place  of  assembling  to  the  tribunal.  The  junior  baron 
present  led  the  way,  George  Eliot,  Lord  Heathfield,  re- 
cently ennobled  for  his  memorable  defense  of  Gibraltar 
against  the  fleets  and  armies  of  France  and  Spain.  The 
long  procession  was  closed  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Earl 
Marshal  of  the  realm,  by  the  great  dignitaries,  and  by  the 
brothers  and  sons  of  the  King.  Last  of  all  came  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  conspicuous  by  his  fine  person  and  noble 
bearing.  The  gray  old  walls  were  hung  with  scarlet. 
The  long  galleries  were  crowded  by  an  audience  such  as 
has  rarely  excited  the  fears  or  the  emulation  of  an  orator. 
There  were  gathered  together,  from  all  parts  of  a  great, 
free,  enlightened,  and  prosjjcrous  empire,  grace  and  fe- 
male loveliness,  wit  and  learning,  the  representatives  of 
every  science  and  of  every  art.  There  were  seated  round 
the  Queen  the  fair-haired  young  daughters  of  the  house  of 
Brunswick.  There  tlic  Ambassadors  of  great  Kings  and 
Commonwealths  gazed  with  admiration  on  a  spectacle 
whifh  no  ntlicr  foniitry  in  the  world  could  present.  There 
Sidflons,  in  tlic  i)rinie  of  ln-r  majestic  beaiity,  looked  with 
emotion  on  a  scene  surpassing  all  the  imitations  of  the 
stage.  There  the  historian  of  the  Roman  Empire  thought 
of  the  days  when  Cieero  j)l('ad('<l  the  cause  of  Sicily 
against  Verres,  and  whr-n,  before  a  senate  which  still  re- 
tained some  show  of  freedom,  Tacitus  thundered  against 
the  oppressor  of  AfricM.  Tliere  were  seen,  side  by  side, 
the  greatest  painter  .inri  tbe  greatest  scholar  of  the  age. 
The  spectacle  had  allnrefl  Reynolds  from  tbat  easel  which 
has  I)re8erved  to  us  tlu^  tbonglitfiil  forebeads  of  so  many 
writers  and  statesmen,  and  the  sweet  smiles  of  so  many 
noble  matrons.    It  had  induced  Parr*  to  susi)end  his  labors 

•  Samurl    I'lirr   wan   an    rOtiRUHh    nrholar   fatnod   for   the   varlfty   of 
bis  knowledge  and   for   his  dogmatlHrn. 


364  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

in  that  dark  and  profound  mind  from  which  he  had  ex- 
tracted a  vast  treasure  of  erudition,  a  treasure  too  often 
buried  in  the  earth,  too  often  paraded  with  injudicious 
and  inelegant  ostentation,  but  still  precious,  massive,  and 
splendid.  There  appeared  the  voluptuous  charms  of  her  * 
to  whom  the  heir  of  the  throne  had  in  secret  plighted  his 
faith.  There  too  was  she,  the  beautiful  mother  of  a  beau- 
tiful race,  the  Saint  Cecilia  t  whose  delicate  features, 
lighted  up  by  love  and  music,  art  has  rescued  from  the 
common  decay.  There  were  the  members  of  that  brilliant 
society  which  quoted,  criticized,  and  exchanged  repartees, 
under  the  rich  peacock-hangings  of  Mrs.  Montague.  And 
there  the  ladies  whose  lips,  more  persuasive  than  those  of 
Fox  himself,  had  carried  the  Westminster  election  against 
palace  and  treasury,  shone  round  Georgiana  Duchess  of 
Devonshire. 

The  Sergeants  made  proclamation.  Hastings  advanced 
to  the  bar,  and  bent  his  knee.  The  culprit  was  indeed 
not  unworthy  of  that  great  presence.  He  had  ruled  an 
extensive  and  populous  country,  and  made  laws  and 
treaties,  had  sent  forth  armies,  had  set  up  and  pulled 
down  princes.  And  in  his  high  place  he  had  so  borne 
himself,  that  all  had  feared  him,  that  most  had  loved  him, 
and  that  hatred  itself  could  deny  him  no  title  to  glory, 
except  virtue.  He  looked  like  a  great  man,  and  not  like 
a  bad  man.  A  person  small  and  emaciated,  yet  deriving 
dignity  from  a  carriage  which,  while  it  indicated  defer- 
ence to  the  court,  indicated  also  habitual  self-possession 
and  self-respect,  a  high  and  intellectual  forehead,  a  brow 
pensive,  but  not  gloomy,  a  mouth  of  inflexible  decision,  a 
face  pale  and  worn,  but  serene,  on  which  was  written,  as 
legibly  as  under  the  picture  in  the  council-chamber  at 
Calcutta,  Mens  ceqita  in  arduis;  such  was  the- aspect  with 
which  the  great  proconsul  presented  himself  to  his  judges. 

His  counsel  accompanied  him,  men  all  of  whom  were 
afterward  raised  by  their  talents  and  learning  to  the 
highest  posts  in  their  profession,  the  bold  and  strong- 
minded  Law,  afterward  Chief  Justice  of  the  King's 
Bench;  the  more  humane  and  eloquent  Dallas,  afterward 

•  Mrs.  Thomas  Fitzherbert,  whose  subsequent  marriage  to  George 
IV  was  pronounced    invalid. 

t  Eliza  Sheridan,  a  noted  beauty  who  posed  for  several  portraits 
by    Sir    Joshua    Reynolds. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  365 

Chief  Justice  of  the  Common  Pleas;  and  Plomer  who, 
near  twenty  years  later,  successfully  conducted  in  the 
same  hijih  court  the  defense  of  Lord  Melville,  and  subse- 
quently became  Vice-Chancellor  and  Master  of  the  Rolls. 
But  neither  the  culprit  nor  his  advocates  attracted  so 
much  notice  as  the  accusers.  In  the  midst  of  the  blaze 
of  red  drapery,  a  space  had  been  fitted  up  with  green 
benches,  and  tables  for  the  Commons.  The  managers, 
with  Burke  at  their  head,  appeared  in  full  dress.  The 
collectors  of  gossip  did  not  fail  to  remark  that  even  Fox, 
generally  so  regardless  of  his  appearance,  had  paid  to  the 
illustrious  tribunal  the  compliment  of  wearing  a  bag 
and  sword.  Pitt  had  refused  to  be  one  of  the  conductors 
of  the  impeachment;  and  his  commanding,  copious,  and 
sonorous  eloquence  was  wanting  to  that  great  master  of 
various  talents.  Age  and  blindness  had  unfitted  Lord 
North  for  the  duties  of  a  public  prosecutor;  and  his 
friends  were  left  without  the  help  of  his  excellent  sense, 
his  tact,  and  his  urbanity.  But,  in  spite  of  the  absence 
of  these  two  distinguished  members  of  the  Lower  House, 
the  box  in  which  the  managers  stood  contained  an  array 
of  speakers  such  as  perhajts  bad  not  appeared  together 
since  the  great  age  of  Athenian  clo(iuence.  There  were 
Fox  and  Sheridan,  the  Knglish  Demosthenes  and  the 
English  Ilyjx-rides.  There  was  Burke,  ignorant,  indeed, 
or  negligent  of  the  art  of  adapting  his  reasonings  and  his 
style  to  the  capacity  and  taste  of  his  hearers,  but  in  ampli- 
tude of  coin[>rehensioii  iiiul  riclmess  of  iniMgination 
superior  to  every  orator,  ancient  or  modern.  There,  with 
eyes  reverentially  fixed  on  Burke,  appeared  the  finest 
gentleman  of  the  age,  liis  form  develo))c(l  l)y  every  manly 
exercise,  his  face  beaming  with  intelligence  and  spirit, 
the  ingenious,  the  chivalrous,  the  high-.souled  Windham. 
Nor,  though  snrronndef]  by  sneh  men,  did  the  youngest 
manager  j)ass  unnoticed.  At  an  age  when  most  of  those 
who  distingiiished  themselves  in  life  are  still  contending 
for  prizes  and  fellowslii|)s  at  college,  he  bad  won  for  him- 
self a  con.spicuous  place  in  parliament.  No  advantage  of 
fortune  or  connection  was  wanting  that  could  set  off  to 
the  height  his  spleiidid  talents  and  his  unbleniisbe*!  honor. 
At  twenty-three  he  bad  been  thought  worthy  to  be  ranked 
•with  the  veteran  statesmen  who  appeared  as  the  delegates 


366  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  the  British  Commons,  at  the  bar  of  the  British  no- 
bility. All  who  stood  at  that  bar,  save  him  alone,  are 
gone,  culprit,  advocates,  accusers.  To  the  generation 
which  is  now  in  the  vigor  of  life,  he  is  the  sole  repre- 
sentative of  a  great  age  which  has  passed  away.  But 
those  who,  within  the  last  ten  years,  have  listened  with 
delight,  till  the  morning  sun  shone  on  the  tapestries  of  the 
House  of  Lords,  to  the  lofty  and  animated  eloquence  of 
Charles,  Earl  Grey,  are  able  to  form  some  estimate  of  the 
powers  of  a  race  of  men  among  whom  he  was  not  the 
foremost. 

The  charges  and  the  answers  of  Hastings  were  first 
read.  The  ceremony  occupied  two  whole  days,  and  was 
rendered  less  tedious  than  it  would  otherwise  have  been 
by  the  silver  voice  and  just  emphasis  of  Cowper,  the  clerk 
of  the  court,  a  near  relation  of  the  amiable  poet.  On 
the  third  day  Burke  rose.  Four  sittings  were  occupied 
by  his  opening  speech,  which  was  intended  to  be  a  general 
introduction  to  all  the  charges.  With  an  exuberance  of 
thought  and  a  splendor  of  diction  which  more  than  satis- 
fied the  highly-raised  expectation  of  the  audience,  he 
described  the  character  and  institutions  of  the  natives  of 
India,  recounted  the  circumstances  in  which  the  Asiatic 
empire  of  Britain  had  originated,  and  set  forth  the  con- 
stitution of  the  Company  and  of  the  English  Presidencies. 
Having  thus  attempted  to  communicate  to  his  hearers  an 
idea  of  Eastern  society,  as  vivid  as  that  which  existed  in 
his  own  mind,  he  proceeded  to  arraign  the  administration 
of  Hastings  as  systematically  conducted  in  defiance  of 
morality  and  public  law.  The  energy  and  pathos  of  the 
great  orator  extorted  expressions  of  unwonted  admiration 
from  the  stern  and  hostile  Chancellor,  and,  for  a  moment, 
seemed  to  pierce  even  the  resolute  heart  of  the  defendant. 
The  ladies  in  the  galleries,  unaccustomed  to  such  displays 
of  eloquence,  excited  by  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion, 
and  perhaps  not  unwilling  to  display  their  taste  and  sen- 
sibility, were  in  a  state  of  uncontrolable  emotion.  Hand- 
kerchiefs were  pulled  out;  smelliMg-l)ottles  were  handed 
round;  hysterical  sobs  and  screams  were  heard;  and  Mrs. 
Sheridan  was  carried  out  in  a  fit.  At  length  the  orator 
concluded.  Raising  his  voice  till  the  old  arches  of  Irish 
oak   resounded,   "Therefore,"   said   he,    "hath   it  with   all 


WARKEX  HASTINGS  367 

confidence  been  ordered  by  the  Commons  of  Great  Britain, 
that  I  impeach  Warren  Hastings  of  high  crimes  and  mis- 
demeanors. I  impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the  Commons' 
House  of  Parliament,  whose  trust  he  has  betrayed.  I 
impeach  him  in  the  name  of  the  English  nation,  whose 
ancient  honor  he  has  sullied.  I  impeach  him  in  the  name 
of  the  people  of  India,  whose  rights  he  has  trodden  under 
foot,  and  whose  country  he  has  turned  into  a  desert. 
Lastly,  in  the  name  of  human  nature  itself,  in  the  name 
of  both  sexes,  in  the  name  of  every  age,  in  the  name  of 
everv  rank,  I  impeach  the  common  enemy  and  oppressor 
of  all !" 

When  the  deep  murmur  of  various  emotions  had  sub- 
sided, Mr.  Fox  rose  to  address  the  Lords  respecting  the 
course  of  proceeding  to  be  followed.  The  wish  of  the 
accusers  was  that  the  Court  would  bring  to  a  close  the 
investigation  of  the  first  charge  l)('fV)rc  the  second  was 
opened.  The  wish  of  Hastings  and  of  his  counsel  was 
that  the  managers  should  open  all  the  charges,  and  pro- 
duce all  the  evidence  for  the  prosecution,  before  the  de- 
fense began.  The  Lords  retired  to  their  own  House  to 
consider  the  question.  TIk*  Chancellor  took  the  side  of 
Hastings.  Lord  Loughborougli,  who  was  now  in  opposi- 
tion, supported  the  demand  of  the  managers.  The  division 
showed  which  way  the  inclination  of  the  tribunal  leaned. 
A  majority  of  ne;ir  three  to  f)ne  decided  in  favor  of  the 
course  for  which  Hastings  contended. 

When  the  Court  sat  again.  Mr.  Fox,  assisted  by  Mr. 
Grey,  openerl  the  charge  respecting  Cheyte  Sing,  and 
several  days  were  spent  in  rending  papers  nnd  hearing 
witnesses.  Tbe  next  artiele  was  that  relating  to  the 
Princesses  of  Oude.  The  cDnduet  of  this  part  of  the  case 
was  intrusted  to  Sheridaii.  Tbe  curiosity  of  the  public 
to  henr  him  was  unbounded.  TTis  s|»arkling  aiul  highly 
finished  decliiniation  lasted  two  days;  but  the  Hull  was 
crowded  to  suffocation  during  the  whole  time.  It  was  said 
that  fifty  guijifiis  bad  been  paid  for  a  single  ticket. 
Sheridan,  when  be  concluded,  contrived,  with  a  knowledge 
of  stage-effect  which  his  father  might  have  envied,  to 
sink  back,  as  if  exhausted,  into  the  sirins  of  Piurke,  who 
hugged  him   with  the  energy  of  generous  admiration. 

June  was  now  far  advanced.     The  session  could  not 


368  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

last  much  lonjrer;  and  the  progress  wliich  had  been  made 
in  the  impeachment  was  not  very  satisfactory.  There 
were  twenty  charges.  On  two  only  of  these  had  even 
the  case  for  the  prosecution  been  heard ;  and  it  was  now 
a  year  since  Hastings  had  been   admitted  to  bail. 

The  interest  taken  by  the  public  in  the  trial  was  great 
when  the  Court  began  to  sit,  and  rose  to  the  height  whoji 
Sheridan  spoke  on  the  charge  relating  to  the  Begums. 
From  that  time  the  excitement  went  down  fast.  The 
spectacle  had  lost  the  attraction  of  novelty.  The  great 
displays  of  rhetoric  were  over.  What  was  behind  was 
not  of  a  nature  to  entice  men  of  letters  from  their  books 
in  the  morning,  or  to  tempt  ladies  who  had  left  the  mas- 
querade at  two  to  be  out  of  bed  before  eight.  There 
remained  examinations  and  cross-examinations.  There 
remained  statements  of  accounts.  There  remained  the 
reading  of  papers,  filled  with  words  unintelligible  to 
English  ears,  with  lacs  and  crores,  zemindars  and  aumils, 
sunnuds  and  perwannahs,  jaghires  and  nuzzurs.  There 
remained  bickerings,  not  always  carried  on  with  the  best 
taste  or  with  the  best  temper,  between  the  managers  of 
the  impeachment  and  the  counsel  for  the  defense,  particu- 
larly between  Mr.  Burke  and  Mr.  Law.  There  remained 
the  endless  marches  and  counter-marches  of  the  Peers 
between  their  House  and  the  Hall :  for  as  often  as  a  point 
of  law  was  to  be  discussed,  their  Lordships  retired  to  dis- 
cuss it  apart;  and  the  consequence  was,  as  a  peer  wittily 
said,  that  the  Judges  walked  and  the  trial  stood  still. 

It  is  to  be  added  that,  in  the  spring  of  1788  when  the 
trial  commenced,  no  important  question,  either  of  domes- 
tic or  foreign  policy,  excited  the  public  mind.  The 
proceeding  in  Westminster  Hall,  therefore,  naturally  at- 
tracted most  of  the  attention  of  Parliament  and  of  the 
public.  It  was  the  one  great  event  of  that  season.  But 
in  the  following  year  the  King's  illness,  the  debates  on 
the  Regency,  the  expectation  of  a  change  of  Ministry, 
completely  diverted  public  attention  from  Indian  affairs; 
and  within  a  fortnight  after  George  the  Third  had  re- 
turned thanks  in  St.  Paul's  for  his  recovery,  the  States- 
General  of  France  met  at  Versailles.  In  the  midst  of 
the  agitation  produced  by  these  events,  the  impeachment 
was  for  a  time  almost  forgotten. 


WAEREN  HASTINGS  369 

The  trial  in  the  Hall  wont  on  lanpriiidly.  In  the  session 
of  17SS,  when  the  proceedings  had  the  interest  of  novelty, 
and  when  the  Peers  had  little  other  business  before  them, 
only  thirty-five  days  were  p:iven  to  the  impcaehment.  In 
1789,  the  Refrenoy  Bill  occupied  the  Upper  House  till  the 
session  was  far  advanced.  When  the  King  recovered  the 
circuits  were  bejrinninpr.  The  judjres  left  town;  the  Lords 
waited  for  the  return  of  the  oracles  of  jurisprudence;  and 
the  consequence  was  that  during  the  whole  year  only 
seventeen  days  were  given  to  the  case  of  Hastings.  It 
was  clear  that  the  matter  would  be  protracted  to  a  length 
unprecedented  in  the  annals  of  criminal  law. 

In  truth,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  impeachment, 
though  it  is  a  fine  ceremony,  and  though  it  may  have 
been  useful  in  the  seventeenth  century,  is  not  a  proceed- 
ing from  which  much  good  can  now  be  expected.  What- 
ever confidence  may  be  placed  in  the  decisions  of  the 
Peers  on  an  appeal  arising  out  of  ordinary  litigation, 
it  is  certain  that  no  man  lias  the  least  confidence  in  their 
impartiality,  when  a  great  puldic  functionary,  charged 
with  a  great  state  crime,  is  brought  to  their  bar.  They 
are  all  politicians.  There  is  hardly  one  among  them 
whose  vote  on  an  impcai'hmcnt  may  not  be  confidently 
proflicted  liefore  a  wittiess  has  been  examined;  and.  even 
if  it  were  possible  to  rely  on  their  justice,  they  would  still 
be  quite  unfit  to  try  such  a  cause  as  that  of  Hastings. 
They  sit  only  during  half  tlie  year.  They  have  to  transact 
mur-h  legislative  and  nuicli  judicial  business.  The  law- 
lords,  whose  advice  is  re<|inred  to  guide  the  unlearned 
majority,  are  employed  .l:iily  in  administering  justice 
elsewhere.  It  is  iinpnssiMc,  tlnTcfnre,  that  during  a  busy 
session,  the  TTjjper  Ilnnse  should  give  more  than  a  few 
days  to  an  impeachment.  To  expect  that  their  Lordships 
would  give  up  partridgc-slioDting,  in  order  to  bring  the 
greatest  deliiKpient  to  spe.-dy  justice,  or  to  relieve  accused 
innocence  l)y  speedy  acquittal,  would  be  unreasonable  in- 
deed. A  w'ell-eonstitnfed  tribunal,  sitting  regularly  six 
days  in  the  week,  and  nine  hours  in  the  day,  would  have 
brought  the  trial  of  Hastings  to  a  close  in  less  than  three 
months.  Tlie  Lords  liad  not  finished  llwir  work  in  seven 
years. 

The  result  ceased  t')  be  matter  of  doubt,  from  the  time 


370  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

when  the  Lords  resolved  that  they  would  be  guided  by 
the  rules  of  evidence  which  are  received  in  the  inferior 
courts  of  the  realm.  Those  rules,  it  is  well  known,  exclude 
much  information  which  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  de- 
termine the  conduct  of  any  reasonable  man,  in  the  most 
important  transactions  of  private  life.  Those  rules,  at 
every  assizes,  save  scores  of  culprits  whom  judges,  jury, 
and  spectators,  firmly  believe  to  be  guilty.  But  when 
those  rules  were  rigidly  applied  to  offenses  committed 
many  years  before,  at  the  distance  of  many  thousand 
miles,  conviction  was,  of  course,  out  of  the  question.  We 
do  not  blame  the  accused  and  his  counsel  for  availing 
themselves  of  every  legal  advantage  in  order  to  obtain  an 
acquittal.  But  it  is  clear  that  an  acquittal  so  obtained 
cannot  be  pleaded  in  bar  of  the  judgment  of  history. 

Several  attempts  were  made  by  the  friends  of  Hastings 
to  put  a  stop  to  the  trial.  In  1789  they  proposed  a  vote 
of  censure  upon  Burke,  for  some  violent  language  which 
he  had  used  respecting  the  death  of  Nuncomar  and  the 
connection  between  Hastings  and  Impey.  Burke  was  then 
unpopular  in  the  last  degree  both  with  the  House  and 
with  the  country.  The  asperity  and  indecency  of  some 
expressions  which  he  had  used  during  the  debates  on 
the  Regency  had  annoyed  even  his  warmest  friends.  The 
vote  of  censure  was  carried ;  and  those  who  had  moved 
it  hoped  that  the  managers  would  resign  in  disgust. 
Burke  was  deeply  hurt.  But  his  zeal  for  what  he  con- 
sidered as  the  cause  of  justice  and  mercy  triumphed  over 
his  personal  feelings.  He  received  the  censure  of  the 
House  with  dignity  and  meekness,  and  declared  that  no 
personal  mortification  or  humiliation  should  induce  him 
to  flinch  from  the  sacred  duty  which  he  had  undertaken. 

In  the  following  year  the  Parliament  was  dissolved, 
and  the  friends  of  Ilastings  entertained  a  hope  that  the 
new  House  of  Commons  might  not  be  disposed  to  go  on 
with  the  impeachment.  They  began  by  maintaining  that 
the  whole  proceeding  was  terminated  by  the  dissolution. 
Defeated  on  this  point,  they  made  a  direct  motion  that 
the  impeachment  should  be  dropped;  but  they  were  de- 
feated by  the  combined  forces  of  the  Government  and 
the  Opposition.  It  was,  however,  resolved  that,  for  the 
sake  of  expedition,  many  of  the  articles  should  be  with- 


WARREN  HASTINGS  371 

drawn.  In  truth,  had  not  some  such  measure  been 
adopted,  the  trial  would  have  lasted  till  the  defendant  was 
in  his  grave. 

At  length,  in  the  spring  of  1795,  the  decision  was  pro- 
nounced, near  eight  years  after  Hastings  had  been  brought 
by  the  Sergeant-at-arms  of  the  Commons  to  the  bar  of 
the  Lords.  On  the  last  day  of  this  great  procedure  the 
public  curiosity,  long  suspended,  seemed  to  be  revived. 
Anxiety  about  the  judgment  there  could  be  none;  for  it 
had  been  fully  ascertained  that  there  was  a  great  majority 
for  the  defendant.  Nevertheless  many  wished  to  see  the 
pageant,  and  the  Hall  was  as  much  crowded  as  on  the 
first  day.  But  those  who,  having  been  present  on  the 
first  day,  now  bore  a  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the  last, 
were  few ;  and  most  of  those  few  were  altered  men. 

As  Hastings  himself  said,  the  arraignment  had  taken 
place  before  one  generation,  and  the  judgment  was  pro- 
nounced by  another.  The  spectator  could  not  look  at 
the  woolsack,  or  at  the  red  benches  of  the  Peers,  or  at 
the  green  benches  of  the  Connnons,  without  seeing  some- 
thing that  reminded  him  of  the  instability  of  all  human 
things,  of  the  instability  of  power  and  fame  and  life,  of 
the  more  ];ime,ntal)le  instability  of  friendship.  The  great 
seal  was  borne  before  Lord  Loughborough  who,  when  the 
trial  commenced,  was  a  fierce  opponent  of  Mr.  Pitt's  gov- 
ernment, and  who  was  now  a  member  of  that  govern- 
mcut,  while  Tliiirlow,  who  presided  in  the  court  when  it 
first  sat,  estranged  from  all  his  old  allies,  sat  scowling 
among  the  jiniior  barons.  Of  about  a  hundred  and  sixty 
nobles  wlio  walked  in  the  procession  on  the  first  day,  sixty 
had  been  laid  in  their  family  vaults.  Still  more  affei-ting 
must  have  been  the  sight  of  the  managers'  box.  Wiiat 
had  become  of  that  fair  fellowship,  so  closely  bound  to- 
gether by  public  and  private  ties,  so  resplendent  with 
every  talent  an<l  aeeonn)lisbnient?  It  had  been  scattered 
by  calamiti«s  nif)re  bitter  than  the  bitterness  of  death. 
The  great  chiefs  were  still  living,  and  still  in  the  full 
vigor  of  their  genins.  Put  their  frietulship  was  at  an 
end.  It  had  been  violently  aiul  publicly  dis.solved,  with 
tears  and  stormy  reproaches.  If  those  men,  once  so  dear 
to  each  other,  were  now  compelled  to  meet  for  the  pur- 
pose of  managing  the  itiipeaelinieiit,  they  met  as  strangers 


372  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

•whom  public  business  had  brought  together,  and  behaved 
to  each  other  with  cold  and  distant  civility.  Burke  had  in 
his  vortex  whirled  away  Windham,  Fox  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  Sheridan  and  Grey. 

Only  twenty-nine  Peers  voted.  Of  these  only  six  found 
Hastings  guilty  on  the  charges  relating  to  Cheyte  Sing 
and  to  the  Begums.  On  other  charges,  the  majority  in 
his  favor  was  still  greater.  On  some,  he  was  unanimously 
absolved.  He  was  then  called  to  the  bar,  was  informed 
from  the  woolsack  that  the  Lords  had  acquitted  him,  and 
was  solemnly  discharged.  He  bowed  respectfully  and  re- 
tired. 

We  have  said  that  the  decision  had  been  fully  expected. 
It  was  also  generally  approved.  At  the  commencement  of 
the  trial  there  had  been  a  strong  and  indeed  unreasonable 
feeling  against  Hastings.  At  the  close  of  the  trial  there 
was  a  feeling  equally  strong  and  equally  unreasonable 
in  his  favor.  One  cause  of  the  change  was,  no  doubt, 
what  is  commonly  called  the  fickleness  of  the  multitude, 
but  what  seems  to  us  to  be  merely  the  general  law  of 
human  nature.  Both  in  individuals  and  in  masses  vio- 
lent excitement  is  always  followed  by  remission,  and  often 
by  reaction.  We  are  all  inclined  to  depreciate  whatever 
we  have  overpraised,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  show 
undue  indulgence  where  we  have  shown  undue  rigor.  It 
was  thus  in  the  case  of  Hastings.  The  length  of  his  trial, 
moreover,  made  him  an  object  of  compassion.  It  was 
thought,  and  not  without  reason,  that,  even  if  he  was 
guilty,  he  was  still  an  ill-used  man,  and  that  an  impeach- 
ment of  eight  years  was  more  than  a  sufficient  punish- 
ment. It  was  also  felt  that,  though,  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  criminal  law,  a  defendant  is  not  allowed  to  set  off  his 
good  actions  against  his  crimes,  a  great  political  cause 
should  be  tried  on  different  principles,  and  that  a  man 
who  had  governed  an  empire  during  thirteen  years  might 
have  done  some  very  reprehensible  things,  and  yet  might 
be  on  the  whole  deserving  of  rewards  and  honors  rather 
than  of  fine  and  imprisonment.  The  press,  an  instrument 
neglected  by  the  prosecutors,  was  used  by  Hastings  and 
his  friends  with  great  effect.  Every  ship,  too,  that 
arrived  from  Madras  or  Bengal,  brought  a  cuddy  full  of  his 
admirers.    Every  gentleman  from  India  spoke  of  the  late 


WARREN  HASTINGS  373 

Governor-General  as  having?  deserved  better,  and  having 
been  treated  worse,  than  any  man  living.  The  effect  of 
this  testimony  unanimously  given  by  all  persons  who 
knew  the  East,  was  naturally  very  great.  Retired  mem- 
bers of  the  Indian  services,  civil  and  military,  were  settled 
in  all  corners  of  the  kingdom.  Each  of  them  was,  of 
course,  in  his  own  little  circle,  regarded  as  an  oracle  on 
an  Indian  question;  and  they  were,  with  scarcely  one 
exception,  the  zealous  advocates  of  Hastings.  It  is  to  be 
added,  that  the  numerous  addresses  to  the  late  Governor- 
General,  which  his  friends  in  Bengal  obtained  from  the 
natives  and  transmitted  to  England,  made  a  considerable 
impression.  To  these  addresses  we  attach  little  or  no 
importance.  That  Hastings  was  beloved  by  the  people 
whom  he  governed  is  true;  but  the  eulogies  of  pundits, 
zemindars,  ^lohammedan  doctors,  do  not  prove  it  to  be 
true.  For  an  English  collector  or  judge  would  have  found 
it  easy  to  induce  any  native  who  could  write  to  sign  a 
panegj-ric  on  the  most  odious  ruler  that  ever  was  in  India. 
It  was  said  that  at  Benares,  the  very  place  at  which  the 
acts  set  forth  in  the  first  article  of  impeachment  had 
been  committed,  the  natives  had  erected  a  temple  to  Has- 
tings; and  this  story  excited  a  strong  sensation  in  England. 
Burke's  observations  on  the  apotheosis  were  admirable. 
He  saw  no  reason  for  astonishment,  he  said,  in  the  inci- 
dent which  had  been  represented  as  so  striking.  He  know 
something  of  the  mythology  of  the  Brahmans.  He  knew 
that  as  they  worshijx-d  some  pods  from  htve,  so  they  wor- 
shiped others  from  fear.  He  knew  that  they  erected 
shrines,  not  only  to  the  benignant  deities  of  light  and 
plenty,  but  also  to  the  fiends  who  i)resi(le  over  siniill-pox 
and  murder.  Nor  did  be  at  all  disjiute  the  claim  of  Mr. 
Hastings  to  be  admitted  into  such  n  Pantheon.  This 
reply  has  always  struck  us  as  one  of  the  finest  that  ever 
was  made  in  Parliament.  It  is  a  grave  and  foreil)le  argu- 
ment, decorated  by  the  most  l»rilliant  wit  and  fancy, 

Hastings  was.  how(>ver.  safe.  But  in  everything  except 
character,  he  would  have  been  far  better  oil  if,  when  first 
impeached,  he  had  at  once  pleaded  guilty,  and  paid  a  fine 
of  fifty  thousand  pounds.  He  was  a  ruined  man.  Tho 
legal  expenses  of  his  defense  had  been  enormous.  The 
expenses  which  did  not  appear  in  his  attorney's  bill  were 


374  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

perhaps  larger  still.  Great  sums  had  boon  paid  to  Major 
Scott.  Great  sums  had  been  laid  out  in  bribing  news- 
papers, rewarding  pamphleteers,  and  circulating  tracts. 
Burke,  so  early  as  1790,  declared  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons that  twenty  thousand  pounds  had  been  employed  in 
corrupting  the  press.  It  is  certain  that  no  controversial 
weapon,  from  the  gravest  reasoning  to  the  coarsest 
ribaldry,  was  left  unemployed.  Logan  defended  the  ac- 
cused governor  with  great  ability  in  prose.  For  the  lovers 
of  verse,  the  speeches  of  the  managers  wore  burlesqued  in 
Simpkin's  letter.  It  is,  we  are  afraid,  indisputable  that 
Hastings  stooped  so  low  as  to  court  the  aid  of  that 
malignant  and  filthy  baboon  John  Williams,  who  called 
himself  Anthony  Pasquin.  It  was  necessary  to  subsidize 
such  allies  largely.  The  private  hoards  of  Mrs.  Hastings 
had  disappeared.  It  is  said  that  the  banker  to  whom  they 
had  been  intrusted  had  failed.  Still  if  Hastings  had 
practised  strict  economy,  he  would,  after  all  his  losses, 
have  had  a  moderate  competence;  but  in  the  management 
of  his  private  affairs  he  was  imprudent.  The  dearest  wish 
of  his  heart  had  always  been  to  regain  Daylesford.  At 
length,  in  the  very  year  in  which  his  trial  commenced, 
the  wish  was  accomplished ;  and  the  domain,  alienated 
more  than  seventy  years  before,  returned  to  the  descend- 
ants of  its  old  lords.  But  the  manor  house  was  a  ruin; 
and  the  grounds  round  it  had,  during  many  years,  been 
utterly  neglected.  Hastings  proceeded  to  build,  to  plant, 
to  form  a  sheet  of  water,  to  excavate  a  grotto;  and,  before 
he  was  dismissed  from  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords,  he 
had  expended  more  than  forty  thousand  pounds  in  adorn- 
ing his  seat. 

The  general  feeling  both  of  the  Directors  and  of  the 
proprietors  of  the  East  India  Company  was  that  he  had 
great  claims  on  them,  that  his  services  to  them  had  been 
eminent,  and  that  his  misfortunes  had  been  the  effect  of 
his  zeal  for  their  interest.  His  friends  in  Leadenhall 
Street  proposed  to  reimburse  him  for  the  cost  of  his  trials 
and  to  settle  on  him  an  annuity  of  five  thousand  pounds 
a  year.  But  the  consent  of  the  Board  of  Control  was 
necessary;  and  at  the  head  of  the  Board  of  Control  was 
Mr.  Dundas,  who  had  himself  been  a  party  to  the  impeach- 
ment, who  had,  on  that  account,  been  reviled  with  great 


WARREN  HASTINGS  375 

bitterness  by  the  adherents  of  Hastings,  and  who,  there- 
fore, was  not  in  a  very  complying  mood.  He  refused  to 
consent  to  what  the  Directors  suggested.  The  Directors 
remonstrated.  A  long  controversy  followed.  Hastings,  in 
the  mean  time,  was  reduced  to  such  distress,  that  he  could 
hardly  pay  his  weekly  bills.  At  length  a  compromise  was 
made.  An  annuity  of  four  thousand  a  year  was  settled 
on  Hastings;  and  in  order  to  enable  him  to  meet  pressing 
demands,  he  was  to  receive  ten  years'  annuity  in  advance. 
The  Company  was  also  permitted  to  lend  him  fifty  thou- 
sand pounds,  to  be  repaid  by  instalments  without  interest. 
This  relief,  though  given  in  the  most  absurd  manner,  was 
sufficient  to  enable  the  retired  governor  to  live  in  comfort, 
and  even  in  luxury,  if  he  had  been  a  skilful  manager. 
But  he  was  careless  and  profuse,  and  was  more  than  once 
under  the  necessity  of  :ii)i)lying  to  the  Company  for  assist- 
ance, which  was  liberally  given. 

He  had  security,  and  affluence,  but  not  the  power  and 
dignity  which,  when  be  landed  from  India,  he  had  reason 
to  expect.  He  had  then  looked  forward  to  a  coronet,  a 
red  ribbon,  a  seat  at  the  Council  Board,  an  office  at 
Whitehall.  He  was  then  only  fifty-two,  and  might  hope 
for  many  years  of  bodily  and  mental  vigor.  The  case 
was  widely  different  when  ho  left  the  bar  of  the  Lords. 
He  was  now  too  old  a  man  to  turn  his  mind  to  a  new 
class  of  studies  and  duties.  He  had  no  chance  of  receiv- 
ing any  mark  of  royal  favor  while  Mr.  Pitt  remained  in 
power;  and,  when  Mr.  T'itt  retired,  Hastings  was  ap- 
proaching  bis  seventieth  year. 

Once,  and  only  once,  after  his  acquittal,  he  interfen^l 
in  politics;  and  that  iutirference  was  not  nnu-h  to  bis 
honor.  In  ISOI  be  exertid  himself  strenuously  to  prevent 
Mr.  Addiiigton,  against  wlioin  Fox  and  Pitt  had  combined, 
frf)in  resigning  the  Treasury.  It  is  diffieult  to  believe  that 
a  man  so  al)le  and  energetic  as  Hastings  can  have  thought 
that,  when  lionaparte  was  at  Bf»ub>gtic  with  a  great  army, 
the  defense  of  our  island  could  safely  l>e  intrusted  to  a 
ministry  whieb  did  not  contain  a  single  person  whom 
flattery  could  describe  as  a  great  statesman.  It  is  also 
certain  tli.it,  on  the  imjiortant  question  which  bad  raise(l 
Mr.  Addington  to  power,  and  on  which  Ik;  differed  from 
both  Ff)X  and  Pitt.  Hastings,  as  might  have  been  expected, 


376  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

agreed  with  Fox  and  Fitt,  and  was  decidedly  opposed  to 
Addington.  Religious  intolerance  has  never  been  the  vice 
of  the  Indian  service,  and  certainly  was  not  the  vice  of 
Hastings.  But  Mr.  Addington  had  treated  him  with 
marked  favor.  Fox  had  been  a  principal  manager  of  the 
impeachment.  To  Pitt  it  was  owing  that  there  had  been 
an  impeachment ;  and  Hastings,  we  fear,  was  on  this 
occasion  guided  by  personal  considerations,  rather  than 
by  a  regard  to  the  public  interest. 

The  last  twenty-four  years  of  his  life  were  chiefly 
passed  at  Daylesford.  He  amused  himself  with  embellish- 
ing his  grounds,  riding  fine  Arab  horses,  fattening  prize- 
cattle,  and  trying  to  rear  Indian  animals  and  vegetables 
in  England.  He  sent  for  seeds  of  a  very  fine  custard- 
apple,  from  the  garden  of  what  had  once  been  his  own 
villa,  among  the  green  hedgerows  of  Allipore.  He  tried 
also  to  naturalize  in  Worcestershire  the  delicious  leechee,* 
almost  the  only  fruit  of  Bengal  which  deserves  to  be  re- 
gretted even  amidst  the  plenty  of  Covent  Garden.  The 
Mogul  emperors,  in  the  time  of  their  greatness,  had  in 
vain  attempted  to  introduce  into  Hindustan  the  goat  of 
the  table-land  of  Tibet,  whose  down  supplies  the  looms  of 
Kashmir  with  the  materials  of  the  finest  shawls.  Has- 
tings tried,  with  no  better  fortune,  to  rear  a  breed  at 
Daylesford;  nor  does  he  seem  to  have  succeeded  better 
with  the  cattle  of  Bootan,  whose  tails  are  in  high  esteem 
as  the  best  fans  for  brushing  away  the  mosquitoes. 

Literature  divided  his  attention  with  his  conservatories 
and  his  menagerie.  He  had  always  loved  books,  and 
they  were  now  necessary  to  him.  Though  not  a  poet,  in 
any  high  sense  of  the  word,  he  wrote  neat  and  polished 
lines  with  great  facility,  and  was  fond  of  exercising  this 
talent.  Indeed,  if  wc  must  speak  out,  he  seems  to  have 
been  more  of  a  Trissotin  f  than  was  to  be  expected  from 
the  powers  of  his  mind,  and  from  the  great  part  which 
he  had  played  in  life.  We  are  assured  in  these  Memoirs 
that  the  first  thing  which  he  did  in  the  morning  was  to 
compose  a  copy  of  verses.  When  the  family  and  guests 
assemblefl,  the  poem  made  its  appearance  as  regularly  as 

•  A    Chinese    fruit,    about    one    and    one-half    inches    in    diameter, 
■with   a   red   shell,   white   pulp,   and   one   shining   brown    seed. 
t  A  pedant  in   "Les  femmes  savantes,"  by  Molifere. 


WARREN  HASTINGS  377 

the  eggs  and  rolls;  and  Mr.  Gleig  requires  us  to  believe 
that,  if  from  any  accident  Hastings  came  to  the  break- 
fast-table without  one  of  his  charming  performances  in 
his  hand,  the  omission  was  felt  by  all  as  a  grievous  dis- 
appointment. Tastes  differ  widely.  For  ourselves  we 
must  say  that,  however  good  the  breakfasts  at  Daylesford 
may  have  been, — and  we  are  assured  that  the  tea  was 
of  the  most  aromatic  flavor,  and  that  neither  tongue  nor 
venison-pasty  was  wanting, — we  should  have  thought  thr- 
reckoning  high  if  we  had  been  forced  to  earn  our  repast 
by  listening  every  day  to  a  new  madrigal  or  sonnet  com- 
posed by  our  host.  Wo  are  glad,  however,  that  Mr.  Gleig 
has  preserved  this  little  feature  of  character,  though  we 
think  it  by  no  means  a  beauty.  It  is  good  to  be  often 
reminded  of  the  inconsistency  of  human  nature,  and  to 
learn  to  look  without  wonder  or  disgust  on  the  weaknesses 
which  are  found  in  the  strongest  minds.  Dionysius 
in  old  times,  Frederic  in  the  last  century,  with  ca- 
pacity and  vigor  eqiuil  to  the  conduct  of  the  greatest 
affairs,  united  all  the  little  vanities  and  affectations 
of  provincial  blue-stockings.  These  great  exaini)les 
may  console  the  admirers  of  Hastings  for  the  affliction 
of  seeing  him  reduced  to  the  level  of  the  Ilayleys  and 
Sewards. 

When  Hastings  had  passed  many  years  in  retirement, 
and  had  long  outlived  the  (-(Hjimon  age  of  men,  he  again 
became  for  a  short  time  an  object  of  general  attention. 
In  IHl.T  the  charter  of  the  Fast  India  Company  was  re- 
newed; and  much  discussion  about  Indian  affairs  took 
place  in  Parliament.  It  was  determined  to  examine  wit- 
nesses at  the  bar  of  the  Gommons;  and  Hastings  was 
ordered  to  attend.  He  had  appeared  at  that  bar  once 
before.  It  was  when  he  read  liis  answer  to  the  charges 
which  P.urke  had  laid  f>ii  the  table.  Since  that  time 
twenty-.seven  years  had  elajised;  public  feeling  had  under- 
gone a  complete  change;  the  nation  had  now  forgotten 
his  faidts,  and  remembered  nnl,v  his  services.  Tho  reap- 
pearance, too,  of  a  man  wlm  had  been  among  tbe  most 
distinguished  of  a  generation  that  had  passed  away,  who 
now  belonged  to  liistory.  and  wbo  seemed  to  have  risen 
from  the  dend,  could  not  but  jiroduce  a  solemn  and 
pathetic  effect.     The  Commons  received  him  with  accla- 


378  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

mations,  ordered  a  chair  to  be  set  for  him,  and  when  he 
retired,  rose  and  uncovered.  There  were,  indeed,  a  few 
who  did  not  sympathize  with  the  general  feeling.  One  or 
two  of  the  managers  of  the  impeachment  were  present. 
They  sat  in  the  same  seats  which  they  had  occupied 
when  they  had  been  thanked  for  the  services  which  they 
had  rendered  in  Westminster  Hall;  for,  by  the  courtesy 
of  the  House,  a  member  who  has  been  thanked  in  his 
place  is  considered  as  having  a  right  always  to  occupy 
that  place.  These  gentlemen  were  not  disposed  to  admit 
that  they  had  employed  several  of  the  best  years  of  their 
lives  in  persecuting  an  innocent  man.  They  accordingly 
kept  their  seats,  and  pulled  their  hats  over  their  brows; 
but  the  exceptions  only  made  the  prevailing  enthusiasm 
more  remarkable.  The  Lords  received  the  old  man  with 
similar  tokens  of  respect.  The  University  of  Oxford  con- 
ferred on  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws;  and,  in  the 
Sheldonian  Theater,  the  under-graduates  welcomed  him 
with  tumultuous  cheering. 

These  marks  of  p\iblic  esteem  were  soon  followed  by 
marks  of  royal  favor.  Hastings  was  sworn  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  was  admitted  to  a  long  private  audience 
of  the  Prince  Regent,  who  treated  him  very  graciously. 
When  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  the  King  of  Prussia 
visited  England,  Hastings  ni)peared  in  their  train  both 
at  Oxford  and  in  the  Guildhall  of  London,  and,  though 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  princes  and  great  warriors,  was 
everywhere  received  by  the  public  with  marks  of  respect 
and  admiration.  He  was  presented  by  the  Prince  Regent 
both  to  Alexander  and  to  Frederic  William ;  and  his  Royal 
Highness  went  so  far  as  to  declare  in  public  that  honors 
far  higher  than  a  seat  in  the  Privy  Council  were  due,  and 
would  soon  be  paid,  to  the  man  who  had  saved  the  British 
dominions  in  Asia.  Hastings  now  confidently  expected  a 
peerage;  but,  from  some  unexplained  cause,  he  was  again 
disappointed. 

He  lived  about  four  years  longer,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
good  spirits,  of  faculties  not  impaired  to  any  painful  or 
degrading  extent,  and  of  health  such  as  is  rarely  enjoyed 
by  those  who  attain  such  an  age.  At  length,  on  the 
twenty-second  of  August,  1818,  in  the  eighty-sixth  year 
of  his  age,  he  met  death  with  the  same   tranquil   and 


WARREN  HASTINGS  379 

decorous  fortitude  which  he  had  opposed  to  all  the  trials 
of  his  various  and  eventful  life. 

With   all   his   faults,— and  they   were  neither   few   nor 
small, — only  one  cemetery  was  worthy  to  contain  his  re- 
remains.      In   that   temple   of   silence   and   reconciliation 
where  the  enmities  of  twenty  generations  lie  buried,,  in 
the  Great  Abbey  which  has  during  many  ages  afforded  a 
quiet  resting-place  to  those  whose  minds  and  bodies  have 
been  shattered  by  the  contentions  of  the  Great  Hall,  the 
dust  of  the  illustrious  accused  should  have  mingled  with 
the  dust  of  the  illustrious  accusers.     This  was  not  to  be. 
Yet  the  place  of  interment  was  not  ill  chosen.     Behind 
the  chancel  of  the  parish  church  of  Daylesford,  in  earth 
which  already  held  the  bones  of  many  chiefs  of  the  house 
of  Hastings,  was  laid  the  coffin  of  the  greatest  man  who 
has  ever  borne  that  anrient   and   widely  extended  name. 
On  that  very  spot  prol)ably,   fourscore  years  before,  the 
little  Warren,  meanly  clad  and  scantily  fed,  had  played 
with  the  children  of  the  plowmen.     Even  then  his  yo\ing 
mind  had  revolved  plans  which  might  be  called  romantic. 
Yet,  however  romantic,  it  is  not  likely  that  they  had  been 
so  strance  as  tlu-  truth.     Not  oidy  bad  the  poor  orphan 
retrieved  the  fallen  fortunes  of  his  line.     Not  only   had 
he  repurchased  the  old  lands,  and  rebuilt  the  old  dwelling. 
He    had    preserved    and    extended    an    empire.     He    had 
founded  a  polity.     He  had  administered  government  and 
war  with  more  than  the  capacity  of  Richelieu.     He  liad 
l)atronized     learning     with     the    judicious     libi^rality     of 
Cosmo.*     He  had  been   attacked  by  tin-  most   formi(bible 
combination  of  enemies  that  ever  sought  the  destruction 
of  a   single  victim;   and   over  that   coiidiinatioii,   after   a 
struggle    of    ten    years,    lie    had    triumiilicd.      He   bad    at 
length  gone  down  to  his  grave  in  the  fulness  of  age,  in 
peace,   after  so  many   troubles,    in    honor,   after  so   much 
obloquy. 

Those  who  look  on  his  character  without  favor  or 
malevolence  will  pronounce  that,  in  the  two  great  ele- 
ments of  nil  so<-ial  virtue,  in  res|)ect  for  the  rights  of 
others,  and   in  sympathy  for  the  sufferings  of  others,  he 

•  Cosmo  dp  Medici,  the  Krandfntlier  of  Lorenzo,  wiib  a  FlontUlne 
hanker.  BfateBman.  and  patron  of  letterH,  wJio  Invcntod  hlH  larKO 
inlicrltance    In   the   eollertlon    of   art   treasureB. 


380  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

was  deficient.  His  principles  were  somewhat  lax.  His 
heart  was  somewhat  hard.  But  while  we  cannot  with 
truth  describe  him  either  as  a  righteous  or  as  a  merciful 
ruler,  we  cannot  regard  without  admiration  the  amplitude 
and  fertility  of  his  intellect,  his  rare  talents  for  com- 
mand, for  administration,  and  for  controversy,  his  daunt- 
less courage,  his  honorable  poverty,  his  fervent  zeal  for 
the  interests  of  the  state,  his  noble  equanimity,  tried  by 
both  extremes  of  fortune,  and  never  disturbed  by  either. 


MACHIAVELLI.     (March,  1827.) 

CEuvrca  completes  de  Machiavel,  traduitea  par  J.  V.  P^rieb. 

Paris:    1825. 

Those  who  have  attended  to  the  practise  of  our  literary 
tribunal  are  vcell  aware  that,  by  means  of  certain  legal 
fictions  similar  to  those  of  Westminster  Hall,  we  are 
frequently  enabled  to  take  copnizance  of  cases  lying  be- 
yond the  sphere  of  our  original  jurisdiction.  We  need 
hardly  say,  therefore,  that  in  the  present  instance  M. 
Perier  is  merely  a  Richard  Roe,  who  will  not  be  men- 
tioned in  any  subsequent  stage  of  the  proceedings,  and 
whose  name  is  used  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bringing 
Machiavelli  into  court. 

We  doubt  whether  any  name  in  literary  history  be  so 
generally  odious  as  that  of  the  man  whose  character 
and  writings  we  now  propose  to  consider.  The  terms  in 
which  he  is  commonly  described  would  seem  to  import 
that  he  was  the  Tempter,  the  Kvil  Principle,  the  discoverer 
of  ambition  and  revenge,  the  f)riginal  inventor  of  perj\iry, 
and  that,  before  the  pul>lication  of  his  fatal  Prince,  there 
had  never  been  a  hypocrite,  a  tyrant,  or  a  traitor,  a  simu- 
lated virtue,  or  a  convenient  crime.  One  writer  gravely 
assures  us  that  ^fauricc  of  Saxony  learned  all  his  fraudu- 
lent policy  from  that  execrable  volume.  Another  remarks 
that  since  it  was  translated  intf>  Turkish,  the  Sultans  have 
been  more  arldictcd  than  formerly  to  the  custom  of 
strangling  their  brothers.  Lord  F>yttIeton  charges  the 
poor  Florentine  with  th«^  niaiiifold  treaHtuis  of  the  hoiisn 
of  Guise,  and  with  the  massacre  of  St.  Part Imlomew. 
Several  authors  have  hinted  that  the  Gunpowder  Plot  is 
to  be  primarily  attrilmted  to  bis  doctrines,  and  seem 
to  think  that  liis  effigy  ought  to  be  substituted  for  that  of 
Guy  Fawkes,  in  tho.se  processions  by  which  the  ingenuous 

381 


382  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

youth  of  England  annually  commemorate  the  preservation 
of  the  Three  Estates.  The  Church  of  Rome  has  pro- 
nounced his  works  accursed  things.  Nor  have  our  own 
countrymen  been  backward  in  testifying  their  opinion  of 
his  merits.  Out  of  his  surname  they  have  coined  an 
epithet  for  a  knave,  and  out  of  his  Christian  name  a 
synonym  for  the  Devil.* 

It  is  indeed  scarcely  possible  for  any  person,  not  well 
acquainted  with  the  history  and  literature  of  Italy,  to  read 
without  horror  and  amazement  the  celebrated  treatise 
which  has  brought  so  much  obloquy  on  the  name  of 
Machiavelli.  Such  a  display  of  wickedness,  naked  yet 
not  ashamed,  such  cool,  judicious,  scientific  atrocity, 
seemed  rather  to  belong  to  a  fiend  than  to  the  most 
depraved  of  men.  Principles  which  the  most  hardened 
ruffian  would  scarcely  hint  to  his  most  trusted  accomplice, 
or  avow,  without  the  disguise  of  .some  palliating  sophism, 
even  to  his  own  mind,  are  professed  without  the  slightest 
circumlocution,  and  assumed  as  the  fundamental  axioms 
of  all  political  science. 

It  is  not  strange  that  ordinary  readers  should  regard 
the  author  of  such  a  book  as  the  most  depraved  and 
shameless  of  human  beings.  Wise  men,  however,  have 
always  been  inclined  to  look  with  great  suspicion  on  the 
angels  and  demons  of  the  multitude:  and  in  the  present 
instance,  several  circumstances  have  led  even  superficial 
observers  to  question  the  justice  of  the  vulgar  decision. 
It  is  notorious  that  Machiavelli  was,  through  life,  a 
zealous  republican.  In  the  same  year  in  which  he  com- 
posed his  manual  of  Kingcraft,  he  suffered  imprisonment 
and  torture  in  the  cause  of  public  liberty.  It  seems  in- 
conceivable that  the  martyr  of  freedom  should  have 
designedly  acted  as  the  apostle  of  tyranny.  Several  emi- 
nent writers  have,  therefore,  endeavored  to  detect  in  this 
unfortunate  performance  some  concealed  meaning,  more 
consistent  with  the  character  and  conduct  of  the  author 
than  that  which  appears  at  the  first  glance. 

One  hypothesis  is  that  Machiavelli  intended  to  practise 

•   Nick  Machiavel  had  ne'er  a  trick, 

Though   he   gave   his   name  to   our   old    Nick. 

Iludihras,  Part   III.    Canto   I. 
But,  we  believe,  there  I'j  a  BChism  on  this  subject  among  the  anti- 
quarians.   (Author.) 


MACHIAVELLI  383 

on  the  young  Lorenzo  de'  Medici  *  a  fraud  similar  to  that 
which  Sunderland  is  said  to  have  employed  against  our 
James  the  Second,  and  that  he  urged  his  pupil  to  violent 
and  perfidious  measures,  as  the  surest  means  of  accel- 
erating the  moment  of  deliverance  and  revenge.  Another 
supposition  which  Lord  Bacon  seems  to  countenance,  is 
that  the  treatise  was  merely  a  piece  of  grave  irony,  in- 
tended to  warn  nations  against  the  arts  of  ambitious  men. 
It  would  be  easy  to  show  that  neither  of  these  solutions 
is  consistent  with  many  passages  in  The  Prince  itself. 
But  the  most  decisive  refutation  is  that  which  is  fur- 
nished by  the  other  works  of  Machiavelli.  In  all  the 
writings  which  he  gave  to  the  public,  und  in  all  those 
which  the  research  of  editors  has,  in  the  course  of  three 
centuries,  discovered,  in  his  Comedies,  designed  for  the 
entertainment  of  the  multitude,  in  his  Comments  on 
lu.'ivj,  intended  for  the  perusal  of  the  most  enthusiastic 
patriots  of  Florence,  in  his  History,  inscribed  to  one  of 
the  most  amiable  and  estimable  of  the  Popes,  in  his  ]>ublic 
despatches,  in  his  private  memoranda,  the  same  obliquity 
of  moral  principle  for  which  The  Prince  is  so  severely 
censured  is  more  or  less  disfcrnible.  We  doubt  whether 
it  would  be  possible  to  find,  in  all  the  many  volumes  of 
his  compositions,  a  single  expression  indicating  that  dis- 
simulation and  treachery  had  ever  struck  him  as  dis- 
creditable. 

After  this,  it  may  seem  ridiculous  to  say  that  we  are 
acquainted  with  few  writings  which  exhibit  so  nuich  ele- 
vation of  sentiment,  so  pure  and  warni  a  zeal  for  the 
public  good,  or  so  just  a  view  of  the  duties  and  rights  of 
citizens,  as  those  of  l\rMcbiMvc'll'.  Yet  so  it  is.  And 
even  from  The  Prince  itself  we  could  select  many  pas- 
sages in  support  of  this  remark.  To  a  reader  of  our  ago 
and  country  this  inconsistency  is,  at  first,  perfectly  be- 
wildering. IIk!  whole  man  seems  to  be  an  enigma,  a 
grotesque  as.semblage  of  incongruous  qualities,  selfishness 
and  generosity,  cruelty  an<l  benevolence,  craft  and  sim- 
plicity, abject  villany  and  roniiintic  heroism.  One  sen- 
tence is  such  as  a  veteran  dipbunatist  would  scarcely 
write  in  cipher  for  the  direction  of  his  most  confidential 

•  I>ori-n7,o  Ihf  yoiiiiK«T  wnH  tin-  hod  of  LoriMizo  the  MiiKiilflcent. 
Like  hlH  fatlitT.  hi-  wa«  a   wealthy  anil   powi-rfnl    Klorontlni'   riilcr. 


384  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

spy ;  the  next  seems  to  be  extracted  from  a  theme  composed 
by  an  ardent  schoolboy  on  the  death  of  Leonidas.  An  act 
of  dexterous  perfidy,  and  an  act  of  patriotic  self-devotion, 
call  forth  the  same  kind  and  the  same  degree  of  respectful 
admiration.  The  moral  sensibility  of  the  writer  seems  at 
once  to  be  morbidly  obtuse  and  morbidly  acute.  Two 
characters  altogether  dissimilar  are  united  in  him.  They 
are  not  merely  joined,  but  interwoven.  They  are  the  warp 
and  the  woof  of  his  mind;  and  their  combination,  like 
that  of  the  variegated  threads  in  shot  silk,  gives  to  the 
whole  texture  a  glancing  and  ever-changing  appearance. 
The  explanation  might  have  been  easy,  if  he  had  been  a 
very  weak  or  a  very  affected  man.  But  he  was  evidently 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  His  works  prove,  beyond  all 
contradiction,  that  his  understanding  was  strong,  his  taste 
pure,  and  his  sense  of  the  ridiculous  exquisitely  keen. 

This  is  strange:  and  yet  the  strangest  is  behind.  There 
is  no  reason  whatever  to  think,  that  those  amongst  whom 
he  lived  saw  anything  shocking  or  incongruous  in  his 
writings.  Abundant  proofs  remain  of  the  high  estimation 
in  which  both  his  works  and  his  person  were  held  by  the, 
most  respectable  among  his  contemporaries.  Clement  the 
Seventh  patronized  the  publication  of  those  very  books 
which  the  Council  of  Trent,  in  the  following  generation, 
pronounced  unfit  for  the  perusal  of  Christians.  Some 
members  of  the  domocratical  party  censured  the  Secretary 
for  dedicating  The  Prince  to  a  patron  who  bore  the  un- 
popular name  of  Medici.  But  to  those  immoral  doctrines 
which  have  since  called  forth  such  severe  reprehensions 
no  exception  appears  to  have  been  taken.  The  cry  against 
them  was  first  raised  beyond  the  Alps,  and  seems  to  have 
been  heard  with  amazement  in  Italy.  The  earliest  assail- 
ant, as  far  as  we  are  aware,  was  a  countryman  of  our  own, 
Cardinal  Pole.  The  author  of  the  Anti-Machiavelli  was 
a  French  Protestant. 

It  is,  therefore,  in  the  state  of  moral  feeling  among  the 
Italians  of  those  times  that  we  must  seek  for  the  real 
explanation  of  what  seems  most  mysterious  in  the  life 
and  writings  of  this  remarkable  man.  As  this  is  a  subject 
which  suggests  many  interesting  considerations,  both 
political  and  metaphysical,  we  shall  make  no  apology  for 
discussing  it  at  some  length. 


MACHIAVELLI  385 

During  the  gloomy  and  disastrous  centuries  which  fol- 
lowed the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire,  Italy  had  pre- 
served, in  a  far  greater  degree  than  any  other  part  of 
Western  Europe,  the  traces  of  ancient  civilization.  The 
night  which  descended  upon  her  was  the  night  of  an 
Arctic  summer.  The  dawn  began  to  reappear  before  the 
last  reflection  of  the  preceding  sunset  had  faded  from  the 
horizon.  It  was  in  the  time  of  the  French  Merovingians 
and  of  the  Saxon  Heptarchy  that  ignorance  and  ferocity 
seemed  to  have  done  their  worst.  Yet  even  then  the 
Neapolitan  provinces,  recognizing  the  authority  of  the 
Eastern  Empire,  preserwd  something  of  Eastern  knowl- 
edge and  refinement.  Rome,  protected  by  the  sacred  char- 
acter of  her  Pontiffs,  enjoyed  at  least  comparative  security 
and  repose.  Even  in  those  regions  where  the  sangiiinar>' 
Lombards  had  fixed  their  monarchy,  there  was  incom- 
parably more  of  wealth,  of  information,  of  physical  com- 
fort, and  of  social  order,  than  could  be  found  in  Oaul, 
Britain,  or  Ciermany. 

That  which  most  distinguished  Italy  from  the  neigh- 
boring countries  was  the  iniportimce  wbicb  tlie  jxipula- 
tion  of  the  towns,  at  a  very  early  period,  began  to  aeiiuire. 
Some  cities  had  been  founde(I  in  wild  and  remote  situa- 
tions, by  fugitives  who  had  eseape<l  I'rorii  the  ragi^  of  t.lio 
bari)arians.  Such  were  Venice  and  (Iciioa,  wliieli  pre- 
served their  freedom  by  their  obscurity,  till  they  became 
able  to  preserve  it  by  their  [lower.  Other  cities  seem  to 
have  retained,  under  all  the  clumging  dyiuisties  of  in- 
vaders, under  Odoacer  and  Theodoric,  Narscs  and  Albion, 
the  munici|)a]  institutions  which  had  been  coiifeiTe<l  on 
them  by  the  liberal  jxilicy  of  the  (treat  Kepidilic.  In 
I)rovinces  which  the  central  government  was  too  feeblo 
either  to  prot<'ct  or  tf)  f>pj)ress,  these  institutions  yTiKluMlly 
acfpiired  stability  and  vigor.  The  citizens,  defended  by 
their  walls,  and  governed  by  their  own  magistrates  and 
their  own  by-laws,  enjoyed  a  considerai'le  share  of  repub- 
lican indeijcnilence.  Thus  a  strong  dcuiocrat  ic  spirit  wart 
called  into  action.  The  Carlovingian  Hovereigns  were  too 
imbecile  to  subdue  it.  The  u'cnrTous  policy  r)f  Otho  en- 
couraged it.  it  might  perhaps  have  been  suppressed  by 
a  close  coalition  between  the  Church  and  the  Empire.  It 
was  fostered  and   invigorated   by  their  disputes.     In  the 


386  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

twelfth  century  it  attained  its  full  vigor,  and,  after  a 
lonjij  and  doubtful  conflict,  triumphed  over  the  abilities 
and  courage  of  the  Swabian  Princes. 

The  assistance  of  the  Ecclesiastical  power  had  greatly 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Guelfs.  That  success 
would,  however,  have  been  a  doubtful  good,  if  its  only 
effect  had  been  to  substitute  a  moral  for  a  political  servi- 
tude, and  to  exalt  the  Popes  at  the  expense  of  the  Caesars. 
Happily  the  public  mind  of  Italy  had  long  contained  the 
seeds  of  free  opinions,  which  were  now  rapidly  developed 
by  the  genial  influence  of  free  institutions.  The  people 
of  that  country  had  observed  the  whole  machinery  of  the 
church,  its  saints  and  its  miracles,  its  lofty  pretensions 
and  its  splendid  ceremonial,  its  worthless  blessings  and 
its  harmless  curses,  too  long  and  too  closely  to  be  duped. 
They  stood  behind  the  scenes  on  which  others  were  gazing 
with  childish  awe  and  interest.  They  witnessed  the 
arrangement  of  the  pulleys,  and  the  manufacture  of  the 
thunders.  They  saw  the  natural  faces  and  heard  the 
natural  voices  of  the  actors.  Distant  nations  looked  on 
the  Pope  as  the  vicegerent  of  the  Almighty,  the  oracle 
of  the  All-wise,  the  umpire  from  whose  decisions,  in  the 
disputes  either  of  theologians  or  of  kings,  no  Christian 
ought  to  appeal.  The  Italians  were  acquainted  with  all 
the  follies  of  his  youth,  and  with  all  the  dishonest  arts 
by  which  he  had  attained  power.  They  knew  how  often 
he  had  employed  the  keys  of  the  church  to  release  himself 
from  the  most  sacred  engagements,  and  its  wealth  to 
pamper  his  mistresses  and  nephews.  The  doctrines  and 
rites  of  the  established  religion  they  treated  with  decent 
reverence.  But  though  they  still  called  themselves  Catho- 
lics, they  had  ceased  to  be  Papists.  Those  spiritual  arms 
which  carried  terror  into  the  palaces  and  camps  of  the 
proudest  sovereigns  excited  only  contempt  in  the  immedi- 
ate neighborhood  of  the  Vatican.  Alexander,  when  he 
commanded  our  Henry  the  Second  to  submit  to  the  lash 
before  the  tomb  of  a  rebellious  subject,  was  himself  an 
exile.  The  Romans,  apprehending  that  he  entertained 
designs  against  their  liberties,  had  driven  him  from  their 
city;  and,  though  he  solemnly  promised  to  confine  himself 
for  the  future  to  his  spiritual  functions,  they  still  refused 
to  readmit  him. 


MACHIAVELLI  387 

In  every  other  part  of  Europe,  a  large  and  powerful 
privileged  class  trampled  on  the  people  and  defied  the 
government.  But,  in  the  most  flourishing  parts  of  Italy, 
the  feudal  nobles  were  reduced  to  comparative  insignifi- 
cance. In  some  districts  they  took  shelter  under  the 
protection  of  the  powerful  commonwealths  which  they 
were  unable  to  oppose,  and  gradually  sank  into  the  mass 
of  burghers.  In  other  places  they  possessed  great  influ- 
ence; but  it  was  an  influence  widely  difl^erent  from  that 
which  was  exercised  by  the  aristocracy  of  any  Transalpine 
kingdom.  They  were  not  petty  princes,  but  eminent  citi- 
zens. Instead  of  strengthening  their  fastnesses  among 
the  mountains,  they  embellished  their  palaces  in  the 
market-place.  The  state  of  society  in  the  Neapolitan 
dominions,  and  in  some  parts  of  the  Ecclesiastical  State, 
more  nearly  resembled  that  which  existed  in  the  great 
monarchies  of  Europe.  But  the  governments  of  Lom- 
bardy  and  Tuscany,  through  all  their  revolutions,  pre- 
sen'cd  a  different  character.  A  people,  when  assembled 
in  a  town,  is  far  more  formidable  to  its  rulers  than  when 
dispersed  over  a  wide  extent  of  country.  The  most 
arbitrary  of  the  Ca-sars  found  it  necessary  to  feed  and 
divert  the  inhabitants  of  their  unwicldly  <'ai)ital  at  the 
expense  of  the  provinces.  The  citizens  of  ^ladrid  have 
more  than  once  besieged  their  sovereign  in  his  own  palace, 
and  extorted  from  him  the  most  humiliating  concessions. 
The  Sultans  have  often  been  compelb-d  to  propitiate  the 
ftirious  rabble  of  Coiistiint inople  with  the,  head  of  an 
unpopular  Vizier.  From  the  Bamc  cause  there  was  a 
eertain  tinge  of  demoeraey  in  the  monarchies  anrl  aris- 
toerar-jes  of   Xorlbcrn    Italy. 

Thus  liberty,  partially  indeed  and  transiently,  revisited 
Italy;  an<l  with  liberty  came  cfiminereo  and  empire, 
sejeuee  and  taste,  nil  tlie  eoinforts  and  ail  the  ornainentfj 
of  life.  The  C'nisarles,  from  which  the  inhabitants  of 
other  countries  gained  nothing  but  relies  and  wounds, 
brought  to  the  rising  eoiiiiuonweidtlis  of  the  Adriatie  and 
Tyrrhenian  sea  n  large  increase  of  wealth,  dominion,  and 
knowledge.  The  moral  and  the  geographical  position  of 
those  commonwealths  enabled  tlieni  to  profit  alike  by  tho 
barbarism  of  the  West  and  by  the  civilization  of  the  East. 
Italian   ships   covered   everj'   sea.      Italian   factories   roso 


388  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

on  every  shore.  The  tables  of  Italian  money-changers 
were  set  in  every  city.  Manufactures  flourished.  Banks 
were  established.  The  operations  of  the  commercial  ma- 
chine were  facilitated  by  many  useful  and  beautiful 
inventions.  We  doubt  whether  any  country  of  Europe, 
our  own  excepted,  have  at  the  present  time  reached  so 
high  a  point  of  wealth  and  civilization  as  some  parts  of 
Italy  had  attained  four  hundred  years  ago.  Historians 
rarely  descend  to  those  details  from  which  alone  the  real 
state  of  a  community  can  be  collected.  Hence  posterity 
is  too  often  deceived  by  the  vague  hyperboles  of  poets  and 
rhetoricians,  who  mistake  the  splendor  of  a  court  for  the 
happiness  of  a  people.  Fortunately,  John  Villani  has 
given  us  an  ample  and  precise  account  of  the  state  of 
Florence  in  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The 
revenue  of  the  Republic  amounted  to  three  hundred  thou- 
sand florins ;  a  sum  which,  allowing  for  the  depreciation 
of  the  precious  metals,  was  at  least  equivalent  to  six  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds  sterling;  a  larger  sum  than  England 
and  Ireland,  two  centuries  ago,  yielded  annually  to  Eliza- 
beth. The  manufacture  of  wool  alone  employed  two 
hundred  factories  and  thirty  thousand  workmen.  The 
cloth  annually  produced  sold,  at  an  average,  for  twelve 
hundred  thousand  florins;  a  sura  fully  equal,  in  exchange- 
able value,  to  two  millions  and  a  half  of  our  money.  Four 
hundred  thousand  florins  were  annually  coined.  Eighty 
banks  conducted  the  commercial  operations,  not  of 
Florence  only,  but  of  all  Europe.  The  transactions  of 
these  establishments  were  sometimes  of  a  magnitude 
which  may  surprise  even  the  contemporaries  of  the 
Barings  and  the  Rothschilds.  Two  houses  advanced  to 
Edward  the  Third  of  England  upward  of  three  hundred 
thousand  marks,  at  a  time  when  the  mark  contained  more 
silver  than  fifty  shillings  of  the  present  day,  and  when 
the  value  of  silver  was  more  than  quadruple  of  what  it 
now  is.  The  city  and  its  environs  contained  a  hundred 
and  seventy  thousand  inhabitants.  In  the  various  schools 
about  ten  thousand  children  were  taught  to  read;  twelve 
hundred  studied  arithmetic;  six  hundred  received  a 
learned  education. 

The  progress  of  elegant  literature  and  of  the  fine  arts 
was  proportioned  to  that  of  the  public  prosperity.    Under 


MACHIAVELLI  389 

the  despotic  successors  of  Augustus,  all  the  fields  of  the 
intellect  had  been  turned  into  arid  wastes,  still  marked 
out  by  formal  boundaries,  still  retaining  the  traces  of 
old  cultivation,  but  yielding  neither  flowers  nor  fruit. 
The  deluge  of  barbarism  came.  It  swept  away  all  the 
landmarks.  It  obliterated  all  the  signs  of  former  tillage. 
But  it  fertilized  while  it  devastated.  When  it  receded, 
the  wilderness  was  as  the  garden  of  God,  rejoicing  on 
every  side,  laughing,  clapping  its  hands,  pouring  forth, 
in  spontaneous  abundance,  everything  brilliant,  or 
fragrant,  or  nourishing.  A  new  language,  characterized 
by  simple  sweetness  and  simple  energy,  had  attained  per- 
fection. No  tongue  ever  furnished  more  gorgeous  and 
vivid  tints  to  poetry;  nor  was  it  long  before  a  poet  ap- 
peared, who  knew  how  to  employ  them.  Early  in  the 
fourteenth  century  came  forth  the  Divine  Comedy,  be- 
yond comparison  the  greatest  work  of  imagination  which 
had  appeared  since  the  poems  of  Homer.  The  following 
generation  producecl  indeed  no  second  Dante:  but  it  was 
eminently  distinguished  by  general  intellectual  activity. 
The  study  of  the  Latin  writers  had  never  been  wholly 
neglected  in  Italy.  But  Petrarch  introrluced  a  more  pro- 
found, liberal,  and  elegant  scholarship,  and  coinmuiiicateil 
t()  his  countrs-mcn  that  enthusiasm  for  the  literature,  tlie 
history,  ami  the  antii|wities  of  Home,  which  <iivided  his 
own  heart  with  a  frigid  mistress  and  a  more  frigid  Muse. 
Boccaccio  turned  tlicir  attention  to  the  more  sublime  and 
graceful  models  of  (1  recce. 

From  this  time,  the  admiration  of  learning  and  genius 
became  almost  an  idolatry  among  the  peopb;  of  Italy, 
Kings  and  reimlilics,  eanliiials  and  doges,  vied  with  each 
other  in  honf)ring  and  flattering  Petrarch.  Kml)assie3 
from  rival  states  solicited  tlie  honor  of  his  instructions. 
His  coroTiation  agifate<l  tlie  Court  of  Najiles  an<l  the 
people  of  Rome  as  much  as  the  most  important  political 
transaction  cf)uld  have  done.  To  collect  books  and  an- 
tiques, to  found  i)rofessorsliips,  to  patronia-  men  of 
learning,  became  almost  universal  fashions  among  the 
great.  The  spirit  of  literary  research  allied  itself  to  that 
of  commercial  enteri)rise.  Every  place  to  which  tin;  mer- 
chant princes  of  Florence  extended  their  gigantic  traffic, 
from  the  bazaars  of  the  Tigris  to  the  monasteries  of  the 


390  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Clyde,  was  ransaoked  for  medals  and  manuscripts.  Archi- 
tecture, painting:,  and  sculpture,  were  munificently  en- 
couraf^ed.  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  name  an  Italian 
of  eminence,  during  the  period  of  which  we  speak,  who, 
whatever  may  have  been  his  general  character,  did  not  at 
least  affect  a  love  of  letters  and  of  the  arts. 

Knowledge  and  public  prosperity  continued  to  advance 
together.  Both  attained  their  meridian  in  the  age  of 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent.*  We  cannot  refrain  from  quot- 
ing the  spU^Klid  passage,  in  which  the  Tuscan  Thucydides 
describes  the  state  of  Italy  at  that  period.  "Ridotta  tutta 
in  somma  pace  e  tranquillita,  coltivata  non  ineno  ne' 
luoghi  pin  montuosi  e  piu  sterili  che  nelle  pianure  e 
Tegioni  piii  fertili,  ne  sottoposta  ad  altro  imperio  che  de' 
suoi  medcsimi,  non  solo  era  abbondantissima  d'  abitatori 
e  di  ricchozze;  ma  illustrata  sommamente  dalla  mag- 
nificenza  di  molti  principi,  dallo  splendore  di  molte 
nobilissime  e  bellissime  citta,  dalla  sedia  e  maesta  della 
religione,  finriva  d'  uomini  prestantissimi  nelF  amminis- 
trazione  delle  cose  pubblicbe,  e  d'  ingegni  molto  nobili  in 
tutte  le  scienze,  ed  in  qualunque  arte  preclara  ed  indus- 
triosa."t  When  we  peruse  this  just  and  splendid  descrip- 
tion, we  can  scarcely  persuade  ourselves  that  we  are 
reading  of  times  in  which  the  annals  of  England  and 
France  present  us  only  with  a  frightful  spectacle  of  pov- 
erty, barbarity,  and  ignorance.  From  the  oppressions  of 
illiterate  masters,  and  the  sufferings  of  a  degraded  peas- 
antry, it  is  delightful  to  turn  to  the  opulent  and  enlight- 
ened States  of  Italy,  to  the  vast  and  magnificent  cities, 
the  ports,  the  arsenals,  the  villas,  the  museums,  the 
libraries,  the  marts  filled  with  every  article  of  comfort  or 
luxury,  the  factories  swarming  with  artizans,  the  Apen- 
nines   covered    with    rich    cultivation    up    to    their    very 

*  One  of  the  most  famous  of  the  Medici,  a  patron  of  the  arts, 
and  a  brilliant  ruler  of  Florence  during  the  latter  half  of  the  ISth 
century.      He  was  the  father  of   Lorenzo  the   younger. 

t  The  entire  country  was  in  a  state  of  deei)est  peace  and  tran- 
Uuillity,  as  highly  cultivated  in  the  more  mountainous  and  sterile 
ijlace.s  as  in  the  ])lains  and  more  fertile  sections,  subject  to  no 
other  power  than  itself,  not  only  flourishing  in  citizens  and  wealth, 
but  supremely  renowned  for  the  magnificence  of  many  princes,  for 
the  splendor  of  many  noble  and  beautiful  cities,  for  the  seats  and 
majesty  of  religion,  productive  of  men  excelling  in  the  administration 
of  public  affairs  and  of  the  highest  genius  in  iinowledge  and  in  all 
liberal    and    useful   arts. 


MACHIAVELLI  391 

summits,  the  Po  wafting  the  harvests  of  Lombardy  to 
the  granaries  of  Venice,  and  carrying  back  the  silks  of 
Bengal  and  the  furs  of  Siberia  to  the  palaces  of  Milan. 
With  peculiar  pleasure,  every  cultivated  mind  must  re- 
pose on  the  fair,  the  happy,  the  glorious  Florence,  the 
halls  which  rang  with  the  mirth  of  Pulci,  the  cell  where 
twinkled  the  midnight  lamp  of  Politian,  the  statues  on 
which  the  young  eye  of  ^richael  Angelo  glared  with  the 
frenzy  of  a  kindred  inspiration,  the  gardens  in  which 
Lorenzo  meditated  some  sparkling  songs  for  the  May-day 
dance  of  the  Etrurian  virgins.  Alas,  for  the  beautiful 
city!  Alas,  for  the  wit  and  the  learning,  the  genius 
and  the  love! 

"Le  donne,  e  i  cavalier,  gli  affanni,  e  gli  agi, 
Che  ne  'nvogliava  amorc  e  cortosia 
Lil  dove  i  cuor  son  falti  hi  inalvagi."  * 

A  time  was  at  hand,  when  all  the  seven  vials  of  the 
Apocalypse  were  to  be  jiouhmI  forth  and  shaken  out  over 
those  pleasant  countries,  a  time  of  slaughter,  famine, 
beggary,  infamy,  slavery,  despair. 

In  the  Italian  States,  as  in  many  natural  bodies,  un- 
timely decrepitude  was  the  penalty  of  precocious 
maturity.  Their  early  greatness,  and  their  early  decline, 
are  principally  to  be  attriliuted  to  the  same  cause,  the 
preponderance  which  the  towns  acquired  in  the  political 
system. 

In  a  community  of  hunters  or  of  shepherds,  every  man 
easily  and  necessarily  becomes  a  soldier.  II is  ordinary 
avocations  are  perfectly  comi)ntil)le  witli  nil  the  duties 
of  military  service.  However  remote  may  be  tla;  expedi- 
tion on  which  he  is  bound,  he  fiiuls  it  easy  to  transport 
with  him  the  stock  from  which  he  derives  his  subsistei)c<\ 
The  whole  pco])]*'  is  an  army;  the  wliole  year  a  march. 
Such  was  the  state  of  society  which  facilitated  the  gigan- 
tic conquotts  of  Attil.'i  and  Tamerlane. 

Hut  a  people  which  subsiHts  by  the  cultivation  of  the 
earth  is  in  a  very  different  situation.     The  huHbandmaJi  is 

•  Tin-  <lniiifH  nn«l  rnvnlliTH,  thn  tfilln  nnrt  i-nff 
Tliiit  lUli'd  our  BoiilH  with  lovr  nnd  roiirtcHy. 
ThfTf  where  the  heart8  hnvo  bo   mJiHrloUB  Krown. 

Dantk  Purgatory,  Canto  IV  ( lyotiKfcllow's  TranBlallon). 


)f 


392  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

bound  to  the  soil  on  whieli  he  hibors.  A  long  campaign 
would  be  ruinous  to  him.  Still  his  pursuits  are  such  as 
give  to  his  frame  both  the  active  and  the  passive  strength 
necessary  to  a  soldier.  Nor  do  they,  at  least  in  the 
infancy  of  agricultural  science,  demand  his  uninterrupted 
attention.  At  particular  times  of  the  year  he  is  almost 
wholly  unemployed,  and  can,  without  injury  to  himself, 
afford  the  time  necessary  for  a  short  expedition.  Thus 
the  legions  of  Rome  were  supplied  during  its  earlier 
wars.  The  season  during  which  the  fields  did  not  require 
the  presence  of  the  cultivators  sufficed  for  a  short  inroad 
and  a  battle.  These  operations,  too  frequently  interrupted 
to  produce  decisive  results,  yet  served  to  keep  vip  among 
the  people  a  degree  of  discipline  and  courage  which  ren- 
dered them,  not  only  secure,  but  formidable.  The  archers 
and  billmen  of  the  middle  ages,  who,  with  provisions  for 
forty  days  at  their  backs,  left  the  fields  for  the  camp,  were 
troops  of  the  same  description. 

But  when  commerce  and  manufactures  begin  to  flourish 
a  great  change  takes  place.  The  sedentary  habits  of  the 
desk  and  the  loom  render  the  exertions  and  hardships  of 
war  insupportable.  The  business  of  traders  and  artisans 
requires  their  constant  presence  and  attention.  In  such 
a  community  there  is  little  superfluous  time;  but  there 
is  generally  much  superfluous  money.  Some  members  of 
the  society  are,  therefore,  hired  to  relieve  the  rest  from 
a  task  inconsistent  with  their  habits  and  engagements. 

The  history  of  Greece  is,  in  this,  as  in  many  other  re- 
spects, the  best  commentary  on  the  history  of  Italy.  Five 
hundred  years  before  the  Christian  era,  the  citizens  of 
the  republics  round  the  yEgean  Sea  formed  perhaps  the 
finest  militia  that  ever  existed.  As  wealth  and  refinement 
advanced,  the  system  underwent  a  gradual  alteration. 
The  Ionian  States  were  the  first  in  which  commerce  and 
the  arts  were  cultivated,  and  the  first  in  which  the  ancient 
discipline  decayed.  Within  eighty  years  after  the  battle 
of  Platsea,  mercenary  troops  were  everywhere  plying  for 
battles  and  sieges.  In  the  time  of  Demosthenes,  it  was 
scarcely  possible  to  persuade  or  compel  the  Athenians 
to  enlist  for  foreign  service.  The  laws  of  Lycurgus  pro- 
hibited trade  and  manufactures.  The  Spartans,  there- 
fore, continued  to  form  a  national  force  long  after  their 


MACniAVELLI  393 

neighbors  had  begun  to  hire  soldiers.  But  their  military 
spirit  declined  with  tluMr  singular  institutions.  In  tlie 
second  century  before  Christ,  Greece  contained  only  one 
nation  of  warriors,  the  savage  highlanders  of  ^tolia, 
who  were  some  generations  behind  their  countrymen  in 
civilization  and  intelligence. 

All  the  causes  which  produced  these  effects  among  the 
Greeks  acted  still  more  strongly  on  the  modern  Italians. 
Instead  of  a  power  like  Sparta,  in  its  nature  warlike,  they 
had  amongst  them  an  ecclesiastical  state,  in  its  nature 
pacific.  Where  there  are  numerous  slaves,  every  freeman 
is  induced  by  the  strongest  motives  to  familiarize  himself 
with  the  use  of  arms.  The  commonwealths  of  Italy  did 
not,  likt'  those  of  Greece,  swarm  with  thousands  of  these 
household  enemies.  Lastly,  the  mode  in  which  military 
operations  were  conducted  during  the  prosperous  times  of 
Italy  was  peculiarly  unfavorable  to  the  formation  of  an 
efficient  militia.  Men  covered  with  iron  from  head  to 
foot,  armed  with  ponderous  lances,  and  mounted  on  horses 
of  the  largest  breed,  were  considered  as  composing  the 
strength  of  an  army.  The  infantry  was  regarded  as  com- 
paratively worthless,  and  was  neglected  till  it  became 
really  so.  These  tactics  maintained  their  ground  for 
r-cnturies  in  most  parts  of  Europe.  That  foot  soldiers 
could  withstand  the  charge  of  heavy  c-avalry  was  thought 
utterly  impospil)le,  till,  toward  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  tho  rude  mountaineers  of  Switzerland  dissolved 
the  spell,  and  astouii<le<l  the  most  experienced  generals 
by  receiving  the  dreaded  shock  on  nn  iinpiintralile  forest 
of  pikes. 

Tbe  use  of  the  Greci;in  spear,  the  Roman  sword,  or  tti.- 
modern  bayonet,  miglit  be  acqiiired  with  comparative  ease. 
P.nt  nothing  sbort  of  tbe  daily  exercise  of  years  could 
train  tbe  man  at  arms  to  supjiort  his  ponderous  panoply, 
and  manage  bis  unwieldly  weapon.  Throughout  Knrope 
this  nif)st  iini)ortant  br.iiicb  of  war  l)ecaine  a  s(>pnrate  pro- 
fession. I'.eyond  flie  Alps,  indeed,  tbougli  a  jirofession. 
it  was  not  generally  a  trade.  It  was  tbe  duty  and  the 
nmiisrment  of  a  large  class  of  cf)untry  gentlemen.  It  was 
the  service  by  wbicli  tbey  beld  tluir  lands,  and  tbe  diver- 
sion by  which,  in  tbe  absence  of  mental  resources,  they 
beguiled    tln-ir   leisure.      T.iit    in    tlie    Northern    States    of 


394  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

Italy,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  the  growing  power 
of  the  cities,  where  it  had  not  exterminated  this  order  of 
men,  had  completely  changed  their  habits.  Here,  there- 
fore, the  practise  of  em])loying  mercenaries  became  uni- 
versal, at  a  time  when  it  was  almost  unknown  in  other 
countries. 

When  war  becomes  the  trade  of  a  separate  class,  the 
least  dangerous  course  left  to  a  government  is  to  form 
that  class  into  a  standing  army.  It  is  scarcely  possible, 
that  men  can  pass  their  lives  in  the  service  of  one  state, 
without  feeling  some  interest  in  its  greatness.  Its  vic- 
tories are  their  victories.  Its  defeats  are  their  defeats. 
The  contract  loses  something  of  its  mercantile  character. 
The  services  of  the  soldier  are  considered  as  the  effects 
of  patriotic  zeal,  his  pay  as  the  tribute  of  national  grati- 
tude. To  betray  the  power  which  employs  him,  to  be  even 
remiss  in  its  service,  are  in  his  eyes  the  most  atrocious 
and  degrading  of  crimes. 

When  the  princes  and  commonwealths  of  Italy  began 
to  use  hired  troops,  their  wisest  course  would  have  been 
to  form  separate  military  establishments.  Unhappily  this 
was  not  done.  The  mercenary  warriors  of  the  Peninsula, 
instead  of  being  attached  to  the  service  of  different 
powers,  were  regarded  as  the  common  property  of  all. 
The  connection  between  the  state  and  its  defenders  was 
reduced  to  the  most  simple  and  naked  traffic.  The  ad- 
venturer brought  his  horse,  his  weapons,  his  strength,  and 
his  experience,  into  the  market.  Whether  the  King  of 
Kaples  or  the  Duke  of  Milan,  the  Pope  or  the  Signory  of 
Florence,  struck  the  bargain,  was  to  him  a  matter  of 
perfect  indifference.  He  was  for  the  highest  wages  and 
the  longest  term.  When  the  campaign  for  which  he  had 
contracted  was  finished,  there  was  neither  law  nor  punc- 
tilio to  prevent  him  from  instantly  turning  his  arms 
against  his  late  masters.  The  soldier  was  altogether  dis- 
joined from  the  citizen  and  from  the  subject. 

The  natural  consequences  followed.  Left  to  the  conduct 
of  men  who  neither  loved  those  whom  they  defended,  nor 
hated  those  whom  they  opposed,  who  were  often  bound 
by  stronger  ties  to  the  army  against  which  they  fought 
than  to  the  state  which  they  served,  who  lost  by  the  ter- 
mination of  the  conflict,  and  gained  by  its  prolongation, 


MACIIIAVELLI  395 

war  completely  changed  its  character.  Every  man  came 
into  the  field  of  battle  impressed  with  the  knowledg:e  that, 
in  a  few  days,  he  might  be  taking  the  pay  of  the  power 
against  which  he  was  then  employed,  and  fighting  by  the 
side  of  his  enemies  against  his  associates.  The  strongest 
interests  and  the  strongest  feelings  concurred  to  miti- 
gate the  hostility  of  tliose  who  had  lately  been  brethren 
in  arms,  and  who  might  soon  be  brethren  in  arms  once 
more.  Their  common  profession  was  a  bond  of  union  not 
to  be  forgotten  even  when  they  were  engaged  in  the 
service  of  contending  parties.  Hence  it  was  that  opera- 
tions, languid  and  indecisive  beyond  any  recorded  in  his- 
tory, marches,  and  counter-marches,  pillaging  expeditions 
and  blockades,  bloodless  capitulations  and  equally  blood- 
less combats,  make  up  the  military'  history  of  Italy  during 
the  course  of  nearly  two  cfMituries.  Mighty  armies  fight 
from  sunrise  to  sunset.  A  great  victory  is  won.  Thou- 
sands of  prisoners  are  taken ;  and  hardly  a  life  is  lost.  A 
pitched  battle  seems  to  have  been  really  less  dangerous 
than  an  ordinary  civil  tumult. 

Courage  was  now  no  longer  necessary  even  to  the  mili- 
tary character.  Men  grew  old  in  camps,  and  acquired 
the  highest  renown  by  their  warlike  achievements,  with- 
out being  once  required  to  face  serious  danger.  The 
political  consequences  are  too  well  known.  The  richest 
and  most  enlightened  part  of  the  world  was  left  unde- 
fended to  the  assaults  of  every  barbarous  invader,  to  the 
brutality  of  Switzerland,  the  insolence  of  France,  and  the 
fierce  rapacity  of  Arragon.  The  moral  ciTects  which  f(d- 
lowed  from  this  state  of  things  were  still  more  rciiiiirkMl)le. 

Among  the  rufle  nations  which  lay  beyong  the  Ali)s. 
valor  was  absolutely  iiKJispensahle.  w  Without  it  none  could 
be  eminent ;  few  could  be  secure,  f^owanlice  was,  there- 
fore, naturally  considered  as  the  foulest  reproach. '  Among 
the  polished  Italians,  enriched  by  commerce,  governed  by 
law,  and  passionately  attached  to  literature,  everything 
was  done  by  superiority  of  intelligence.  'I'lieir  ver>'  wars. 
more  pacific  than  the  peace  of  their  neighbors,  retjuired 
rather  civil  than  military  qualificntions.  ,  Hence,  while 
courage  was  the  point  of  hniKir  in  other  countries,  in- 
genuity became  the  point  of  honor  in   Italy. 

From     these     principles     were     dcdnccf],     by     processes 


396  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

strictly  analogous,  two  opposite  systems  of  fashionable 
morality.  Through  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  the  vices 
which  peculiarly  belong  to  timid  dispositions,  and  which 
are  the  natural  defense  of  weakness,  fraud,  and  hypocrisy, 
have  always  been  most  disreputable.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  excesses  of  haughty  and  daring  spirits  have  been 
treated  with  indulgence,  and  even  with  respect.  The 
Italians  regarded  with  corresponding  lenity,  those  crimes 
which  require  self-command,  and  address,  quick  observa- 
tion, fertile  invention,  and  profound  knowledge  of  human 
nature. 

Such  a  prince  as  our  Henry  the  Fifth  would  have  been 
the  idol  of  the  North.  The  follies  of  his  youth,  the  selfish 
ambition  of  his  manhood,  the  Lollards*  roasted  at  slow 
fires,  the  prisoners  massacred  on  the  field  of  battle,  the 
expiring  lease  of  priestcraft  renewed  for  another  century, 
the  dreadful  legacy  of  a  causeless  and  hopeless  war  be- 
queathed to  a  people  who  had  no  interest  in  its  event, 
everything  is  forgotten  but  the  victory  of  Agincourt. 
Francis  Sforza,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  model  of 
Italian  heroes.  He  made  his  employers  and  his  rivals 
alike  his  tools.  He  first  overpowered  his  open  enemies 
by  the  help  of  faithless  allies;  he  then  armed  himself 
against  his  allies  with  the  spoils  taken  from  his  enemies. 
By  his  incomparable  dexterity,  he  raised  himself  from 
the  precarious  and  dependent  situation  of  a  military 
adventurer  to  the  first  throne  of  Italy.  To  such  a  man 
much  was  forgiven,  hollow  friendship,  ungenerous  enmity, 
violated  faith.  Such  are  the  opposite  errors  which  men 
commit,  when  their  morality  is  not  a  science  but  a 
taste,  when  they  abandon  eternal  principles  for  accidental 
associations. 

We  have  illustrated  our  meaning  by  an  instance  taken 
from  history.  We  will  select  another  from  fiction. 
Othello  murders  his  wife ;  he  gives  orders  for  the  murder 
of  his  lieutenant;  he  ends  by  murdering  himself.  Yet  he 
never  loses  the  esteem  and  affection  of  Northern  readers. 
His  intrepid  and  ardent  spirit  redeems  everything.  The 
unsuspecting    confidence   with   which   he   listens   to    his 

•  The  Lollards,  the  English  followers  of  Wycllf,  anticipated  the 
Protestants  and  Puritans  in  their  condemnation  of  papal  authority, 
the  use  of  images  in  churches,  etc. 


MACHIAYELLI  397 

adviser,  the  agony  with  which  he  shrinks  from  the  thought 
of  shame,  the  tempest  of  passion  with  which  he  commits 
his  crimes,  and  the  haughty  fearlessness  with  which  he 
avows  them,  give  an  extraordinary  interest  to  his  char- 
acter, lago,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  object  of  universal 
loathing.  ^lany  are  inclined  to  suspect  that  Shakespeare 
has  been  seduced  into  an  exaggeration  unusual  with  him, 
and  has  drawn  a  monster  who  has  no  archetype  in  human 
nature.  Now  we  suspect  that  an  Italian  audience  in  the 
fifteenth  century  would  have  felt  very  differently.  Othello 
would  have  inspired  nothing  but  detestation  and  con- 
tempt. The  folly  with  which  he  trusts  the  friendly 
professions  of  a  man  whose  promotion  he  had  obstructed, 
the  credulity  with  which  he  takes  unsupported  assertions, 
and  trivial  circumstanfes,  for  unanswerable  proofs,  the 
violence  with  which  he  silences  the  exculpation  till  the 
exculpation  can  only  aggravate  his  misery,  would  have 
excited  the  abhorrence  and  disgust  of  the  spectators.  The 
conduct  of  lago  they  would  assurt^lly  have  condeniiu'd ; 
but  they  would  have  condemned  it  as  we  condemn  that  of 
his  victim.  Somothing  of  interest  and  respect  would 
have  mingled  with  their  disapprobation.  The  readiness 
of  the  traitor's  wit,  the  clearness  of  his  judgment,  the 
skill  with  whifh  he  penetrates  the  dispositions  of  others 
and  conceals  his  own,  wnuM  bavo  insured  to  him  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  their  esteem. 

So  wide  was  the  difffP'TU'c  bctwcfn  the  Italians  and 
their  neighbors.  A  similar  iliflcrencc  existed  between  the 
Greeks  of  the  second  century  before  Christ,  and  tbeir 
masters  the  T?omans.  The  eonriuerors,  brave  and  reso- 
lute, faithful  to  their  engagements,  and  strongly  influ- 
enced by  religious  feelings,  were,  at  the  same  time, 
ignorant,  arbitrary,  and  cruel.  With  the  vaii<|risbed 
people  were  deposited  all  the  art.  the  science,  and  the 
literature  of  the  Western  world.  In  poetry,  in  philosojdiy, 
in  painting,  in  arcbite«'ture.  in  sculpture,  they  bad  no 
rivals.  Their  manners  were  polished,  their  perceptions 
acute,  their  invention  ready;  they  were  tolerant,  affable, 
humane;  })ut  of  courage  and  sijicerity  they  were  almost 
Utterly  destitute.  p]ver>'  rude  centurion  cf)nsole(l  himself 
by  his  intellectual  inferiority,  by  remarking  that  knowl- 
edge and  taste  seemed  only  to  make  men  atheists,  cowards. 


398  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  slaves.  The  distiiu-tion  long  continued  to  be  strongly 
marked,  and  furnished  an  admirable  subject  for  the  fierce 
sarcasms  of  Juvenal. 

The  citizen  of  an  Italian  commonwealth  was  the  Greek 
of  the  time  of  Juvenal  and  the  Greek  of  the  time  of 
Pericles,  joined  in  one.  Like  the  former,  he  was  timid 
and  pliable,  artful  and  mean.  But,  like  the  latter,  he 
had  a  country.  Its  independence  and  prosperity  were  dear 
to  him.  If  his  character  were  degraded  by  some  base 
crimes,  it  was,  on  the  other  hand,  ennobled  by  public 
spirit  and  by  an  honorable  ambition. 

A  vice  sanctioned  by  the  general  opinion  is  merely  a 
vice.  The  evil  terminates  in  itself.  A  vice  condemned 
by  the  general  opinion  produces  a  pernicious  effect  on  the 
whole  character.  The  former  is  a  local  malady,  the  latter 
a  constitutional  taint.  When  the  reputation  of  the  offen- 
der is  lost,  he  too  often  flings  the  remains  of  his  virtue 
after  it  in  despair.  The  Highland  gentleman  who,  a 
century  ago,  lived  by  taking  blackmail  from  his  neigh- 
bors, committed  the  same  crime  for  which  Wild*  was 
accompanied  to  Tyburn  by  the  huzzas  of  two  hundred 
thousand  people.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was 
a  much  less  depraved  man  than  Wild.  The  deed  for 
which  Mrs.  Brownrigg  f  was  hanged  sinks  into  nothing, 
when  compared  with  the  conduct  of  the  Roman  who 
treated  the  public  to  a  hundred  pair  of  gladiators.  Yet 
we  should  greatly  wrong  such  a  Roman  if  we  supposed 
that  his  disposition  was  as  cruel  as  that  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
rigg. In  our  own  country,  a  woman  forfeits  her  place 
in  society  by  what,  in  a  man,  is  too  commonly  considered 
as  an  honoral)le  distinction,  and,  at  worst,  as  a  venial 
error.  The  consequence  is  notorious.  The  moral  prin- 
ciple of  a  woman  is  frequently  more  impaired  by  a  single 
lapse  from  virtue  than  that  of  a  man  by  twenty  years 
of  intrigues.  Classical  antiquity  would  furnish  us  with 
instances  stronger,  if  possible,  than  those  to  which  we 
have  referred. 

We  must   apply   this  principle  to   the  case  before  us. 
Habits   of  dissimulation   and   falsehood,   no   doubt,  mark 

•  Jonathan  Wild,  an  English  robber  and  receiver  of  stolen  goods, 
was  hanged   at  Tyburn   in   1725. 

t  A  notorious  murderess  living  in  England  in  the  18th  century. 


MACHIAVELLI  399 

a  man  of  our  age  and  country  as  utterly  worthless  and 
abandoned.  But  it  by  no  moans  follows  that  a  similar 
judgment  would  be  just  in  the  case  of  an  Italian  of  the 
middle  ages.  On  the  contrary,  we  frequently  find  those 
faults  which  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  as  certain 
indications  of  a  mind  altogether  depraved,  in  company 
with  great  and  good  qualities,  with  generosity,  with 
benevolence,  with  disinterestedness.  From  such  a  state  of 
society,  Palamedes,*  in  the  admirable  dialogue  of  Hume,t 
might  have  drawn  illustrations  of  his  theory  as  striking 
as  any  of  those  with  which  Fourli  furnished  him.  These 
are  not,  we  well  know,  the  lessons  which  historians  are 
generally  most  careful  to  teach,  or  readers  most  willing 
to  learn.  T5ut  they  are  not  therefore  useless.  TIow  Philip 
disposed  his  troops  at  Clucronea,  where  Hannibal  crossed 
the  Alps,  whether  Mary  blew  up  Darnley,  or  Siquier  shot 
Charles  the  Twelfth,  and  ten  thousand  other  questions 
of  the  same  description,  are  in  themselves  unimportant. 
The  inquiry  may  amuse  us,  but  the  decision  leaves  us 
no  wiser.  Tie  alone  reads  history  aright  who,  observing 
how  powerfully  circumstances  inilucnce  the  feelings  and 
opinions  of  men,  how  often  vices  pass  into  virtues  and 
paradoxes  into  a.xioms,  lejirns  to  distinguish  what  is  acci- 
dental and  transitory  in  hunuin  nature  from  what  is 
essential  and  immutaljle. 

In  this  respect  no  history  suggests  more  important  re- 
flections than  that  of  the  Tuscan  and  Lombard  common- 
wealths. The  character  of  the  Italian  stat^-sman  si^ems, 
at  first  sight,  a  collection  of  cniitradift  ions,  a  ])hantorn  as 
monstrous  as  the  portress  of  hell  in  Milton,  half  divinity, 
half  snake,  majestic  and  l)eautiful  above,  groveling  and 
poisonous  below.  Wo  see  a  man  wlmse  thouglits  and  words 
have  no  connection  with  each  otlier,  wlio  never  hesitates 
at  an  oath  when  ho  wishes  to  seduce,  who  never  wants  a 
pretext  when  ho  is  inclined  to  betray.  His  cruelties 
spring,  not  from  the  heat  of  blood,  or  the  insanity  of 
uncontrr)lled  power,  but  from  deep  and  cool  meditation. 
His  passions,  like  well-traiiu'd  trfwifis,  am  impetuous  by 
rule,  and  in  their  most  lieadstrong  fury  never  forget  tlie 

•  Pnlnmoflos  wbh  a  rhnrnrtpr  In  Orrrk  loKonrl,  a  nifmber  of  the 
pxpcililion     ncniiiHl     Troy. 

t  A  famous  Scottltih  hintorlan  and  phlloHopher. 


400  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

discipline  to  wliich  tliey  have  been  accustoincd.  His 
whole  soul  is  occupied  with  vast  and  complicated  schemes 
of  ambition :  yet  his  aspect  and  language  exhibit  nothing 
but  philosophical  moderation.  Hatred  and  revenge  eat 
into  his  heart:  yet  every  look  is  a  cordial  smile,  every 
gesture  a  familiar  caress.  He  never  excites  the  suspicion 
of  his  adversaries  by  petty  provocations.  His  purpose  is 
disclosed  only  when  it  is  accomplished.  His  face  is  un- 
ruffled, his  speech  is  courteous,  till  vigilance  is  laid  asleep, 
till  a  vital  point  is  exposed,  till  a  sure  aim  is  taken;  and 
then  he  strikes  for  the  first  and  last  time.  Military  cour- 
age, the  boast  of  the  sottish  German,  of  the  frivolous 
and  prating  Frenchman,  of  the  romantic  and  arrogant 
Spaniard,  he  neither  possesses  nor  values.  He  shuns 
danger,  not  because  he  is  insensible  to  shame,  but  because, 
in  the  society  in  which  he  lives,  timidity  has  ceased  to 
be  shameful.  To  do  an  injury  openly  is,  in  his  estima- 
tion, as  wicked  as  to  do  it  secretly,  and  far  less  profitable. 
With  him  the  most  honorable  means  are  those  which  are 
the  surest,  the  speediest,  and  the  darkest.  He  cannot 
comprehend  how  a  man  should  scruple  to  deceive  those 
whom  he  does  not  scruple  to  destroy.  He  would  think  it 
madness  to  declare  open  hostilities  against  rivals  whom 
he  might  stab  in  a  friendly  embrace,  or  poison  in  a 
consecrated  wafer. 

Yet  this  man,  black  with  the  vices  which  we  consider 
as  most  loathsome,  traitor,  hypocrite,  coward,  assassin, 
was  by  no  means  destitute  even  of  those  virtues  which  we 
generally  consider  as  indicating  superior  elevation  of 
character.  In  civil  courage,  in  perseverance,  in  presence 
of  mind,  those  barbarous  warriors,  who  were  foremost 
in  the  battle  or  the  breach,  were  far  his  inferiors.  Even 
the  dangers  which  he  avoided  with  a  caution  almost 
pusillanimous  never  confused  his  perceptions,  never 
paralyzed  his  inventive  faculties,  never  wrung  out  one 
secret  from  his  smooth  tongue,  and  his  inscrutable  brow. 
Though  a  dangerous  enemy,  and  a  still  more  dangerous 
accomplice,  he  could  be  a  just  and  beneficent  ruler. 
With  so  much  unfairness  in  his  policy,  there  was  an 
extraordinary  degree  of  fairness  in  his  intellect.  Indiffer- 
ent to  truth  in  the  transactions  of  life,  he  was  honestly 
devoted  to  truth  in  the  researches  of  speculation.     Wan- 


MACHIAYELLI  401 

ton  cruelty  was  not  in  his  nature.  On  the  contrary,  where 
no  political  object  was  at  stake,  his  disposition  was  soft 
and  humane.  The  susceptibility  of  his  nerves  and  the 
activity  of  his  iniap:ination  inclined  him  to  sympathize 
with  the  feelings  of  others,  and  to  delight  in  the  charities 
and  courtesies  of  social  life.  Perpetually  descending  to 
actions  which  might  seem  to  mark  a  mind  diseased 
through  all  its  faculties,  he  had  nevertheless  an  exquisite 
sensibility,  both  for  the  natural  and  the  moral  sublime, 
for  every  graceful  and  every  lofty  conception.  Hal)its  of 
petty  intrigue  and  dissimulation  might  have  rendered 
him  incapable  of  great  general  views,  but  that  the  expand- 
ing effect  of  his  philosophical  studies  counteracted  the 
narrowing  tendency,  lie  had  the  keenest  enjoyment  of 
wit,  eloquence,  and  poetry.  The  fine  arts  profited  alike 
by  the  severity  of  his  judgment,  and  by  the  liberality  of 
his  patronage.  The  portraits  of  some  of  the  remarkalde 
Italians  of  those  times  are  perfectly  in  harmony  with 
this  description.  Ample  and  majestic  foreheads,  brows 
strong  and  (hirk.  but  not  frowning,  eyes  of  which  the 
calm  full  gaze,  whiU-  it  expresses  nothing,  seems  to  dis- 
cern everj'thing,  cheeks  pale  with  thought  and  sedentary 
habits,  lips  firmed  witli  feminine  delicacy,  but  compressed 
with  more  than  masculine  <leeision.  mark  out  men  at  once 
enterprising  and  timid,  men  equally  skillinl  in  detecting 
the  purposes  of  others,  and  in  concealing  their  own,  men 
who  must  have  been  formidalde  enemies  and  unsafe  allies, 
but  men,  at  the  same  time,  whose  tempers  were  mild  and 
erjuable,  jind  who  pfissessed  an  ami)litude  and  siibtlety  of 
intellect  which  would  have  rendered  them  eminent  either 
in  active  or  in  contemplative  life,  and  fitted  them  either 
to  govern  or  to  instruct  luiinkind. 

Every  age  and  every  luifiKri  has  certain  characteristic 
vices,  which  prevail  almost  universally,  which  scarcely  any 
person  scrui)les  to  avfiw,  and  which  even  rigid  moralists 
l>ut  faintly  censure.  Succeeding  gr-nr-rations  <hange  the 
fashion  of  their  morals,  with  the  fashion  of  their  hats 
and  their  conclic^ ;  take  some  other  kind  of  wickedness 
under  their  patronage,  and  woiulcr  at  the  depravity  of 
their  ancestors.  Nor  is  this  all.  Posterity,  that  high 
court  of  nppejd  whi<'h  is  never  tired  of  eulogizing  its  own 
justice   and   discernment,   acts  on   such   occasions   like   a 


402  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Roman  dictator  after  a  general  mutiny.  Finding  the 
delinquents  too  numerous  to  be  all  punished,  it  selects 
some  of  them  at  hazard,  to  bear  the  whole  penalty  of  an 
offense  in  which  they  are  not  more  deeply  implicated  than 
those  who  escape.  Whether  decimation  be  a  convenient 
mode  of  military  execution,  we  know  not;  but  we  solemnly 
protest  against  the  introduction  of  such  a  principle  into 
the  philosophy  of  history. 

In  the  present  instance,  the  lot  has  fallen  on  Machia- 
velli,  a  man  whose  public  conduct  was  upright  and  honor- 
able, whose  views  of  morality,  where  they  differed  from 
those  of  the  persons  around  him,  seemed  to  have  differed 
for  the  better,  and  whose  only  fault  was,  that,  having 
adopted  some  of  the  maxims  then  generally  received,  he 
arranged  them  more  luminously,  and  expressed  them  more 
forcibly,  than  any  other  writer. 

Having  now,  we  hope,  in  some  degree  cleared  the  per- 
sonal character  of  Machiavelli,  we  come  to  the  considera- 
tion of  his  works.  As  a  poet,  he  is  not  entitled  to  a  high 
place;  but  his  comedies  deserve  attention. 

The  Mandragola,  in  particular,  is  superior  to  the  best 
of  Goldoni,  and  inferior  only  to  the  best  of  Moliere.  It  is 
the  work  of  a  man  who,  if  he  had  devoted  himself  to  the 
drama,  would  probably  have  attained  the  highest  emi- 
nence, and  produced  a  permanent  and  salutary  effect  on 
the  national  taste.  This  we  infer,  not  so  much  from  the 
degree,  as  from  the  kind  of  its  excellence.  There  are 
compositions  which  indicate  still  greater  talent,  and 
which  are  perused  with  still  greater  delight,  from  which 
we  should  have  drawn  very  different  conclusions.  Books 
quite  worthless  are  quite  harmless.  The  sure  sign  of 
the  general  decline  of  an  art  is  the  frequent  occurrence, 
not  of  deformity,  but  of  misplaced  beauty.  In  general, 
Tragedy  is  corrupted  by  eloquence,  and  Comedy  by  wit. 

The  real  object  of  the  drama  is  the  exhibition  of  human 
character.  This,  we  conceive,  is  no  arbitrary  canon, 
originating  in  local  and  temporary  associations,  like 
those  canons  which  regulate  the  number  of  acts  in  a  play, 
or  of  syllables  in  a  line.  To  this  fundamental  law  every 
other  regulation  is  subordinate.  The  situations  which 
most  signally  develop  character  form  the  best  plot.  The 
mother  tongue  of  the  passions  is  the  best  style. 


AIACHIAVELLI  403 

This  principle,  rightly  understood,  does  not  debar  the 
poet  from  any  grace  of  composition.  There  is  no  style 
in  which  some  man  may  not,  under  some  circumstances, 
express  himself.  There  is  therefore  no  style  which  the 
drama  rejects,  none  which  it  does  not  occasionally  require. 
It  is  in  the  discernment  of  place,  of  time,  and  of  person, 
that  the  inferior  artists  fail.  The  fantastic  rhapsody  of 
^lorcutio,  the  elaborate  declamation  of  Antony,  are,  where 
Shakespeare  has  placed  them,  natural  and  pleasing.  But 
Dryden  would  have  made  Mcrcutio  challenge  Tybalt  in 
hyperboles  as  fanciful  as  those  in  which  he  describes 
the  chariot  of  Mab.  Corneille  would  have  represented 
Antony  as  scolding  and  coaxing  Cleopatra  with  all  the 
measured  rhetoric  of  a  funeral  oration. 

No  writers  have  injured  the  Comedy  of  England  so 
deeply  as  Congreve  and  Sheridan.  Both  were  men  of 
splendid  wit  and  polished  taste.  Fnhappily,  they  made 
all  their  characters  in  their  own  likeness.  Their  works 
bear  the  same  relation  to  the  legitimate  drama  which  a 
transparency  bears  to  a  painting.  There  are  no  delicate 
touches,  no  hues  imperceptibly  fading  into  each  other: 
the  whole  is  lighted  up  with  an  universal  glare.  Outlines 
and  tints  are  forgotten  in  the  common  blaze  which 
illuminates  all.  The  flowers  and  fruits  of  the  intellect 
abourul;  but  it  is  the  al)U>idance  of  a  jungle,  not  of  a 
garden,  unwholesome,  bewildering,  unprofitable  from  its 
vory  plenty,  rank  from  its  very  fragrance.  Every  fop, 
ever\'  boor,  every  valet,  is  a  man  of  wit.  The  very  luitts 
and  dupes.  Tattle,*  Witwould.f  Puff.:}:  Acros,||  outshine  the 
wjiole  Hotel  of  Kiinibouillet.jij  To  prove  the  whole  system 
of  this  school  errf)iieous,  it  is  oidy  necessary  to  apply  the 
test  which  dissolved  the  enchanted  E]f)rimel.  to  place  the 
true  by  the  fiil'^e  Thalia,  to  crmtrast  the  most  celebrated 
characters  whieb  have  been  drawn  by  the  writers  of  wlioni 
we  speak  with  the  Tiastard  in  King  .Toliii,  or  the  Nurse  in 
Tiomeo  aufl  Juliet.  It  was  not  surely  fmiii  want  of  wit 
tliat  Sli;ike>j)eare  adf)pted  so  different  a  tiianager.    IJeiiediek 

*  In  f'oiiKrfVJ-'H  "Kovi-  for   Lovi-." 

t  In   fonKr<-v<'H  "Thf  Wiiy  of  the  World." 

i  In    HhcrWIiin'H     'Tlic    Critic." 

II  In  .Shrrlflan'H  "The  RIvuIh  " 

9  Thu  Mfitcl  (If  Kiimboiilll)-!  wnn  n  f.TmoiiH  houHo  In  Parln.  fhi- 
cj'nttT  of  the  liti'rary  circ-U-  out  of  wlilcli  Kn-w  lutcr  Ibc  French 
Acadcray. 


404  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  Beatrice  throw  Mirabel*  and  Millamant *  into  the 
shade.  All  the  good  sayings  of  the  facetions  houses  of  Ab- 
solute t  and  Surface  X  niight  have  been  clipped  from  the 
single  character  of  Falstatf  without  being  missed.  It  would 
have  been  easy  for  that  fertile  mind  to  have  given  Bardolph 
and  Shallow  as  much  wit  as  Prince  Hal,  and  to  have  made 
Dogberry  and  Verges  retort  on  each  other  in  sparkling 
epigrams.  But  he  knew  that  such  indiscriminate  prodi- 
gality was,  to  use  his  own  admirable  language,  "from 
the  purpose  of  playing,  whose  end,  both  at  the  first  and 
now,  was,  and  is,  to  hold,  as  it  were,  the  mirror  up  to 
Nature." 

This  digression  will  enable  our  readers  to  understand 
what  we  mean  when  we  say  that  in  the  Mandragola, 
Machiavelli  has  proved  that  he  completely  understood  the 
nature  of  the  dramatic  art,  and  possessed  talents  which 
would  have  enabled  him  to  excel  in  it.  By  the  correct 
and  vigorous  delineation  of  human  nature,  it  produces 
interest  without  a  pleasing  or  skilful  plot,  and  laughter 
without  the  least  ambition  of  wit.  The  lover,  not  a  very 
delicate  or  generous  lover,  and  his  adviser  the  parasite, 
are  drawn  with  spirit.  The  hypocritical  confessor  is  an 
admirable  portrait.  He  is.  if  we  mistake  not,  the  original 
of  Father  Dominic,  the  best  comic  character  of  Dryden. 
But  old  Nicias  is  the  glory  of  the  piece.  We  cannot  call 
to  mind  anything  that  resembles  him.  The  follies  which 
Moliere  ridicules  are  those  of  affectation,  not  those  of 
fatuity.  Coxcombs  and  pedants,  not  absolute  simpletons, 
are  his  game.  Shakespeare  has  indee^l  a  vast  assortment 
of  fools;  but  the  precise  species  of  which  we  apeak  is  not, 
if  we  remember  right,  to  be  found  there.  Shallow  is  a 
fool.  But  his  animal  spirits  supply,  to  a  certain  degree, 
the  place  of  cleverness.  His  talk  is  to  that  of  Sir  John 
what  soda  water  is  to  champagne.  It  has  the  effervescence 
though  not  the  body  or  the  flavor.  Slender  and  Sir 
Andrew  Aguecheek  are  fools,  troul)lod  with  an  uneasy 
consciousness  of  their  folly,  whi<-h,  in  the  latter,  pro- 
duces meekness  and  docility,  and  in  the  former,  awkward- 
ness, obstinacy,  and  confusion.   Clotcn  ||  is  an  arrogant  fool, 

•  In    Congreve's    "The    Way   of  the   World." 
t  In  Sheridan's  "The  Rivals." 
t  In  Sheridan's  "The  School  for  Scandal." 
II  In    Shakespeare's   "Cymbeline." 


MACHIAVELLI  405 

Osric  *  a  foppish  fool,  Ajax  f  a  savage  fool ;  but  Nicias  is,  as 
Thersites  +  says  of  Patroclus.f  a  fool  positive.  His  mind 
i8  occupied  by  no  strong  feeling;  it  takes  every  character, 
and  retains  none;  its  aspect  is  diversified,  not  by  pas- 
sions, but  by  faint  and  transitory  semblances  of  passion, 
a  mock  joy,  a  mock  fear,  a  mock  love,  a  mock  pride,  ■which 
chase  each  other  like  shadows  over  its  surface,  and  vanish 
as  soon  as  they  appear.  He  is  just  idiot  enough  to  be  an 
object,  not  of  pity  or  horror,  but  of  ridicule.  He  bears 
some  resemblance  to  poor  Calandrino,  whose  mishaps,  as 
recounted  by  Boccaccio,  have  made  all  Europe  merry  for 
more  than  four  centuries.  He  perhaps  resembles  still 
more  closely  Simon  da  Villa,:}:  to  whom  Bruno  X  and  Buf- 
falmacco  :{:  promised  the  love  of  the  Countess  Civillari.^ 
Nicias  is,  like  Simon,  of  a  learned  profession;  and  the 
dignity  with  which  he  wears  the  doctoral  fur,  renders  his 
absurdities  infinitely  more  grotesque.  The  old  Tuscan  is 
the  very  language  for  such  a  hcing.  Its  peculiar  simplicity 
gives  even  to  the  most  forcible  reasoning  and  the  most 
brilliant  wit  an  infantine  air,  generally  delightful,  but 
to  a  foreign  reader  sometimes  a  little  ludicrous.  Heroes 
and  statesmen  seem  to  lisp  when  they  use  it.  It  becomes 
Nicias  incomparably,  and  renders  all  his  silliness  infinitely 
more  silly. 

We  may  add,  that  the  verses  with  which  the  Mandragola 
is  interspersed,  ay)pear  to  use  to  lie  the  most  spirited  and 
correct  of  all  that  Maehiavelli  has  written  in  meter.  He 
seems  to  have  entertained  the  same  opinion;  for  he  has 
introduced  Sf>me  nf  them  in  other  7)laees.  The  cdiitem- 
poraries  of  the  author  were  not  blind  to  tlu;  merits  of 
this  striking  piece.  It  was  acted  at  Florence  with  the 
greatest  sucees«.  T.eo  the  Tr-iith  was  iimoug  its  admirers, 
and  by  his  order  it  was  represented  at  KomcH 

The  Clizia  is  an  imitation  of  the  Casina  of  IMinitua, 
which  is  itself  an  imitation  of  the  lost  K\rii,(>viiii>ni  of 
Diphilus.     JMautus  was,  uiuiuestionably,  one  of  the  best 

•  In   ShnkoBpj-arf'H   "Hnmlff." 

t  In    ShnkPHpfnr<r'H    "TrolliiH    nnrt    rrPBBMft." 

X  In    Horrarrlo'H    "Thf    Di'cariKTon." 

II  Nothlnjc  fan  bi-  mori-  •■vldfnt  than  thai  PniiliiH  .lovltiH  dcHlKnatcii 
the  ManclrnKola  nn<l«T  tho  nanu-  of  the  NIrlaH.  We  Rhniilcl  not  hnvo 
notlrcfl  what  in  bo  pprffclly  obvloUB.  were  It  not  that  this  natural 
and  palpable  mlRnomcr  baa  led  (he  saKaclous  and  IndiiRtrlouR  Itayla 
Into  a  groBfl  error. 


406  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Latin  writers;  but  the  Casina  is  by  no  means  one  of  his 
best  plays;  nor  is  it  one  which  offers  g^reat  facilities  to 
an  imitator.  The  story  is  as  alien  from  modern  habits 
of  life,  as  the  manner  in  which  it  is  developed  from  the 
modem  fashion  of  composition.  The  lover  remains  in 
the  country  and  the  heroine  in  her  chamber  during  the 
whole  action,  leaving  their  fate  to  be  decided  by  a  foolish 
father,  a  cunning  mother,  and  two  knavish  servants. 
Machiavelli  has  executed  his  task  with  judgment  and 
taste.  He  has  accommodated  the  plot  to  a  different  state 
of  society,  and  has  very  dexterously  connected  it  with  the 
history  of  his  own  times.  The  relation  of  the  trick  put 
on  the  doting  old  lover  is  exquisitely  humorous.  It  is  far 
superior  to  the  corresponding  passage  in  the  Latin  comedy, 
and  scarcely  yields  to  the  account  which  Falstaff  gives  of 
his  ducking. 

Two  other  comedies  without  titles,  the  one  in  prose, 
the  other  in  verse,  appear  among  the  works  of  Machiavelli. 
The  former  is  very  short,  lively  enough,  but  of  no  great 
value.  The  latter  we  can  scarcely  believe  to  be  genuine. 
Neither  its  merits  nor  its  defects  remind  us  of  the  reputed 
author.  It  was  first  printed  in  1796,  from  a  manuscript 
discovered  in  the  celebrated  library  of  Strozzi.  Its 
genuineness,  if  we  have  been  rightly  informed,  is  estab- 
lished solely  by  the  comparison  of  hands.  Our  suspicions 
are  strengthened  by  the  circumstance,  that  the  same 
manuscript  contained  a  description  of  the  plague  of  1527, 
which  has  also,  in  consequence,  been  added  to  the  works 
of  Machiavelli.  Of  this  last  composition,  the  strongest 
external  evidence  would  scarcely  induce  us  to  believe  him 
guilty.  Nothing  was  ever  written  more  detestable  in  mat- 
ter and  manner.  The  narrations,  the  reflections,  the  jokes, 
the  lamentations,  are  all  the  very  worst  of  their  respective 
kinds,  at  once  trite  and  affected,  threadbare  tinsel  from 
the  Rag  Fairs  and  Monmouth  Streets  of  literature.  A 
foolish  schoolboy  might  write  such  a  piece,  and,  after  he 
had  written  it,  think  it  much  finer  than  the  incomparable 
introduction  of  the  Decameron.  But  that  a  shrewd  states- 
man, whose  earliest  works  are  characterized  by  manliness 
of  thought  and  language,  should,  at  near  sixty  years  of 
age,  descend  to  such  puerility,  is  utterly  inconceivable. 

The  little  novel  of  Belphegor  is  pleasantly  conceived. 


MACHIAYELLI  407 

and  pleasantly  told.  But  the  extravagance  of  the  satire 
in  some  measure  injures  its  effect.  Machiavelli  was  un- 
happily married;  and  his  wish  to  avenge  his  own  cause 
and  that  of  his  brethren  in  misfortune,  carried  him  be- 
yond even  the  license  of  fiction.  Jonson  seems  to  have 
combined  some  hints  taken  from  this  tale,  with  others 
from  Boccaccio,  in  the  plot  of  "The  Devil  is  an  Ass,''  a 
play  which,  though  not  tlie  most  highly  finished  of  his 
compositions,  is  perhaps  that  which  exhibits  the  strongest 
proofs  of  genius. 

The  political  correspondence  of  ]\rachiavelli,  first  pub- 
lished in  1707,  is  unquestionably  genuine,  and  highly 
valuable.  The  unhappy  circumstances  in  which  his  coun- 
try was  placed  duriiig  the  greater  part  of  his  public  life 
gave  extraordinary  encouragement  to  dii)lomatic  talents. 
From  the  moment  that  rimrles  the  Eighth  descended  from 
the  Alps,  the  whole  character  of  Italian  politics  was 
<'hanged.  The  governments  of  the  Peninsula  ceased  to 
form  an  independent  system.  Drawn  from  their  old  orbit 
by  the  attraction  of  the  larger  Ixidies  which  now  ap- 
proached them,  they  became  mere  satellites  of  France  and 
Sj)ain.  All  their  disjMites,  internal  and  external,  were 
<lecided  by  foreign  inlliieiu-e.  The  contests  of  opposite 
factions  were  carried  on.  not  as  formerly  in  the  senate- 
house  or  in  the  market -place.  l»ut  in  the  antechambers 
of  Louis  and  Fr-nliuaud.  I'lider  these  circumstances,  the 
prosperity  of  the  Italian  States  depended  far  more  on  the 
ability  of  their  foreign  agents,  than  on  the  conduct  of 
those  who  were  intrusted  with  the  domestic  administra- 
tion. The  ambassador  had  to  discharge  functions  far 
rnnre  delicate  than  transmitting  orders  of  knighthood, 
introducing  tourists,  or  jiresenting  bis  brethren  with  tlie 
homage  of  his  high  consideration.  He  was  an  advocate 
to  whose  management  the  dearest  intiTcsts  of  his  <"lient3 
were  intrusted,  a  sj)y  clothed  with  an  inviolable  character. 
Instead  of  considting,  by  a  reserved  manner  and  ambigu- 
ous style,  the  dignity  of  those  whf)ni  be  represented,  he 
was  to  plunge  into  all  the  intrigues  of  the  court  at  which 
he  resided,  to  discover  and  flatter  ever.v  weakness  of  the 
prince,  and  of  the  favorite  who  governe<l  the  prince,  and 
of  the  lackey  who  governed  tlie  favorite.  lie  was  to 
compliment    the    mistress    and    bribe    the    confessor,    to 


408  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

panegyrize  or  supplicate,  to  laup:h  or  weep,  to  accommo- 
date himself  to  every  caprice,  to  lull  every  suspicion,  to 
treasure  every  hint,  to  be  everything,  to  observe  every- 
thing, to  endure  everything.  High  as  the  art  of  political 
intrigue  had  been  carried  in  Italy,  these  were  times  which 
required  it  all. 

On  these  arduous  errands  Machiavolli  was  frequently 
employed.  He  was  sent  to  treat  with  the  King  of  the 
Romans  and  with  the  Duke  of  Valentinois.  He  was  twice 
ambassador  at  the  Court  of  Rome,  and  thrice  at  that  of 
France.  In  these  missions,  and  in  several  others  of  inferior 
importance,  he  acquitted  himself  with  great  dexterity.  His 
despatches  form  one  of  the  most  amusing  and  instructive 
collections  extent.  The  narratives  are  clear  and  agreeably 
written;  the  remarks  on  men  and  things  clever  and 
judicious.  The  conversations  are  reported  in  a  spirited 
and  characteristic  manner.  We  find  ourselves  introduced 
into  the  presence  of  the  men  who,  during  twenty  eventful 
years,  swayed  the  destinies  of  Europe.  Their  wit  and 
their  folly,  their  fretfulness  and  their  merriment,  are  ex- 
posed to  us.  We  are  admitted  to  overhear  their  chat,  and 
to  watch  their  familiar  gestures.  It  is  interesting  and 
curious  to  recognize,  in  circumstances  which  elude  the 
notice  of  historians,  the  feeble  violence  and  shallow  cun- 
ning of  Louis  the  Twelfth;  the  bustling  insignificance  of 
Maximilian,  cursed  with  an  impotent  pruriency  for  re- 
nown, rash  yet  timid,  obstinate  yet  fickle,  always  in  a 
hurry,  yet  always  too  late;  the  fierce  and  haughty  energy 
which  gave  dignity  to  the  eccentricities  of  Julius;  the 
soft  and  graceful  manners  which  masked  the  insatiable 
ambition  and  the  implacable  hatred  of  Cjcsar  Borgia, 

We  have  mentioned  Cajsar  Borgia.  It  is  impossible  not 
to  pause  for  a  moment  on  the  name  of  a  man  in  whom 
the  political  morality  of  Italy  was  so  strongly  personified, 
partially  blended  with  the  sterner  lineaments  of  the 
Spanish  character.  On  two  important  occasions  Machia- 
vell;  was  admitted  to  his  society;  once,  at  the  moment 
when  Caesar'e  splendid  villainy  achieved  its  most  signal 
triumph,  wher  he  caught  in  one  snare  and  crushed  at 
one  blow  all  hi&  most  formidable  rivals;  and  again  when, 
exhausted  by  diseag*^  and  overwhelmed  by  misfortunes, 
which  no  human  prudenc^  could  have  averted,  he  was 


MACHIAVELLI  409 

the  prisoner  of  the  deadliest  enemy  of  his  house.  These 
interviews  between  the  greatest  speculative  and  the 
greatest  practical  statesman  of  the  age  are  fully  described 
in  the  Correspondence,  and  form  perhaps  the  most  inter- 
esting part  of  it.  From  some  passages  in  The  Prince, 
and  perhaps  also  from  some  indistinct  traditions,  several 
writers  have  supposed  a  connection  between  those  re- 
markable men  much  closer  than  ever  existed.  The  Envoy 
has  even  been  accused  of  prompting  the  crimes  of  the 
artful  and  merciless  tyrant.  But  from  the  official  docu- 
ments it  is  clear  that  their  intercourse,  though  ostensibly 
amicable,  was  in  reality  hostile.  It  cannot  be  doubted, 
however,  that  the  imagination  of  Machiavelli  was  strongly 
impressed,  and  his  speculations  on  government  colored, 
by  the  observations  which  he  made  on  the  singular  cb;ir- 
acter  and  equally  singular  fortunes  of  a  man  who  under 
such  disadvantages  had  achieved  such  exploits;  who,  when 
sensuality,  varied  through  innumerable  forms,  could  no 
longer  stimulate  his  sated  mind,  found  a  more  powerful 
and  durable  excitement  in  the  intense  thirst  of  empire 
and  revenge;  who  emerged  from  the  sloth  and  luxury  of 
the  Roman  purple  the  first  prince  and  general  of  the  age; 
who,  trained  in  an  unwarlikc  profession,  formed  a  gallant 
army  out  of  the  dregs  of  an  unwarliko  peojtle;  who,  after 
acquiring  sovereignty  by  destroying  his  enemies,  acquired 
popularity  by  destroying  his  tools;  who  had  begim  to 
employ  for  the  most  salularv  ends  the  power  which  be  had 
attained  by  the  most  atrocioiis  means;  who  tolerated 
within  the  sphere  of  his  iron  despotism  no  plunderer  or 
oppressor  but  himself;  and  who  fell  at  Inst  aniidst  the 
niinpled  curses  and  regrets  of  n  people  of  whom  his  genius 
had  been  the  wonrler,  and  might  have  been  the  salvation. 
Some  of  those  crimes  of  Borgin  which  to  ns  appear  tbo 
most  odious  would  not,  from  causes  whi<-h  we  have  already 
considered,  havr-  struck  an  Italian  of  the  fifteenth  century 
with  equal  horror.  Patriotic  feelitig  also  might  induco 
Machiavelli  to  look  with  some  indulgence  and  regret  on 
the  meniorv-  of  the  only  leader  who  <'ould  have  defended 
the  independence  of  Italy  against  the  confederate  spoilers 
of  Cambrny. 

On  this  subject  Machiavelli  felt  most  strongly.     Indeed 
the  expulsion  of  the  foreign  tyrants,  and  the  restoration 


410  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  that  golden  age  which  had  preceded  the  irruption  of 
Charles  the  Eighth,  were  projects  which,  at  that  time, 
fascinated  all  the  master-spirits  of  Italy.  The  magnificent 
vision  delighted  the  great  but  ill-regulated  mind  of  Julius. 
It  divided  with  manuscripts  and  sauces,  painters  and 
falcons,  the  attention  of  the  frivolous  Leo.  It  prompted 
the  generous  treason  of  Morone.  It  imparted  a  transient 
energy  to  the  feeble  mind  and  body  of  the  last  Sforza. 
It  excited  for  one  moment  an  honest  ambition  in  the  false 
heart  of  Pescara.  Ferocity  and  insolence  were  not  among 
the  vices  of  the  national  character.  To  the  discriminating 
cruelties  of  politicians,  committed  for  great  ends  on  select 
victims,  the  moral  code  of  the  Italians  was  too  indulgent. 
But  though  they  might  have  recourse  to  barbarity  as  an 
expedient,  they  did  not  require  it  as  a  stimulant.  They 
turned  with  loathing  from  the  atrocity  of  the  strangers 
who  seemed  to  love  blood  for  its  own  sake,  who,  not  con- 
tent with  subjugating,  were  impatient  to  destroy,  who 
found  a  fiendish  pleasure  in  razing  magnificent  cities, 
cutting  the  throats  of  enemies  who  cried  for  quarter;  or 
suffocating  an  unarmed  population  by  thousands  in  the 
caverns  to  which  it  had  fled  for  safety.  Such  were  the 
cruelties  which  daily  excited  the  terror  and  disgust  of  a 
people  among  whom,  till  lately,  the  worst  that  a  soldier 
had  to  fear  in  a  pitched  battle  was  the  loss  of  his  horse 
and  the  expense  of  his  ransom.  The  swinish  intemperance 
of  Switzerland,  the  wolfish  avarice  of  Spain,  the  gross 
licentiousness  of  the  French,  indulged  in  violation  of  hos- 
pitality, of  decency,  of  love  itself,  the  wanton  inhumanity 
which  was  common  to  all  the  invaders,  had  made  them 
objects  of  deadly  hatred  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  Pen- 
insula. The  wealth  which  had  been  accumulated  during 
centuries  of  prosperity  and  repose  was  rapidly  melting 
away.  The  intellectual  superiority  of  the  oppressed  people 
only  rendered  them  more  keenly  sensible  of  their  political 
degradation.  Literature  and  taste,  indeed,  still  disguised 
with  a  flush  of  hectic  loveliness  and  brilliancy  the  ravages 
of  an  incura])le  decay.  The  iron  had  not  yet  entered  into 
the  soul.  The  time  was  not  yet  come  when  eloquence 
was  to  be  gagged,  and  reason  to  be  hoodwinked,  when  the 
harp  of  the  poet  was  to  be  hung  on  the  willows  of  Arno, 
and  the  right  hand  of  the  painter  to  forget  its  cunning. 


MxVCniAVELLI  411 ' 

Yet  a  discerning  eye  might  even  then  have  seen  that 
genius  and  learning  would  not  long  survive  the  state  of 
things  from  which  they  had  sprung,  and  that  the  great 
men  whose  talents  gave  luster  to  that  melancholy  period 
had  been  formed  under  the  intluence  of  happier  days,  and 
would  leave  no  successors  behind  them.  The  times  which 
shine  with  the  greatest  splendor  in  literary  history  are 
not  always  those  to  which  the  human  mind  is  most  in- 
debted. Of  this  we  may  be  convinced,  by  comparing  the 
generation  which  follows  thom  with  that  which  had  pro- 
celled  them.  The  first  fruits  which  are  reaped  imder  a 
bad  system  often  spring  from  seed  sown  imdor  a  good  one. 
Thns  it  was,  in  some  measure,  with  the  Augustan  age. 
Thus  it  was  with  the  age  of  Raphael*  and  Ariosto,*  of 
Aldus*  and  Vida.* 

^fachiavclli  deeply  regretted  the  misfortunes  of  his 
country,  and  clearly  discerned  the  cause  and  the  remedy. 
It  was  the  military  system  of  the  Italian  people  which  had 
extinguished  tluir  value  and  discipline,  and  left  their 
wealth  an  easy  prey  to  every  foreign  plunderer.  The 
Secretary  projected  a  scheme  alike  honoralilo  to  his  heart 
and  to  his  intellect,  for  abolishing  the  use  of  mercenary 
troops,  and  for  organizing  a  national  militia. 

Tlie  exertions  which  he  made  to  effect  this  great  object 
ought  alone  to  rescue  his  name  from  obl<i(}uy.  Though 
his  situation  and  his  haiiits  were  pacific,  ho  studie<l  with 
intense  assifluity  the  theory  of  war.  He  made  himself 
master  of  all  its  details.  The  Florentine  govcrnuKMit 
entered  into  his  views.  A  coimcil  of  war  was  appointed. 
Levies  were  der-reed.  The  indefatigable  minister  ficw 
from  phu-e  to  jil.ifc  in  order  to  superintend  the  execu- 
tion of  his  desi<rn.  The  times  were,  in  some  respects, 
favorable  to  tlir-  experiment.  The  system  of  military 
tactics  had  undergone  a  great  revolution.  The  cavalry 
was  no  longer  considered  as  forming  the  strength  of  nn 
army.  The  hours  whieh  a  citizen  could  spare  from  hi* 
ordinary  eini)loyments,  thf)ugh  by  no  means  suflieient  to 
familiarize  him  with  the  exereisc  of  a  mnn-nt-nrms,  might 
render  him  an  useful  foot-soldier.    The  dread  of  a  foreign 

•  Tour  famous  UnllatiH.  tho  flrnt  nn  nrtln».  the  norond  n  writer  of 
popular  cotncdh  H.  tin-  third  n  rluHslral  B<lioliir  anil  tlw  fouinli-r  of 
tlio  Aldlne  prcBS  in  14'.»'i,  iind  iIk'  IiikI  a  bishop.  Iho  author  of  a 
religious   epic. 


412  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

yoke,  of  plunder,  massacre,  and  conflagration,  might  have 
conquered  that  repugnance  to  military  pursuits  which 
both  the  industry  and  the  idleness  of  great  towns  com- 
monly generate.  For  a  time  the  scheme  promised  well. 
The  new  troops  acquitted  themselves  respectably  in  the 
field.  Machiavelli  looked  with  parental  rapture  on  the 
success  of  his  plan,  and  began  to  hope  that  the  arms  of 
Italy  might  once  more  be  formidable  to  the  barbarians  of 
the  Tagus  and  the  Rhine.  But  the  tide  of  misfortune 
came  on  before  the  barriers  which  should  have  withstood 
it  were  prepared.  For  a  time,  indeed,  Florence  might  be 
considered  as  peculiarly  fortunate.  Famine  and  sword 
and  pestilence  had  devastated  the  fertile  plains  and  stately 
cities  of  the  Po.  All  the  curses  denounced  of  old  against 
Tyre  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  Venice.  Her  merchants 
already  stood  afar  off,  lamenting  for  their  great  city.  The 
time  seemed  near  when  the  sea-weed  should  overgrow 
her  silent  Rialto,  and  the  fisherman  wash  his  nets  in  her 
deserted  arsenal.  Naples  had  been  four  times  conquered 
and  reconquered  by  tyrants  equally  indifferent  to  its  wel- 
fare, and  equally  greedy  for  its  spoils.  Florence,  as  yet, 
had  only  to  endure  degradation  and  extortion,  to  submit 
to  the  mandates  of  foreign  i^owers,  to  buy  over  and  over 
again,  at  an  enormous  price,  what  was  already  justly  her 
own,  to  return  thanks  for  being  wronged,  and  to  ask 
pardon  for  being  in  the  right.  She  was  at  length  deprived 
of  the  blessings  even  of  this  infamous  and  servile  repose. 
Her  military  and  political  institutions  were  swept  away 
together.  The  Medici  returned,  in  the  train  of  foreign 
invaders,  from  their  long  exile.  The  policy  of  Machiavelli 
"was  abandoned ;  and  his  public  services  were  requited  with 
poverty,    imprisonment,   and   torture. 

The  fallen  statesman  still  clung  to  his  project  with 
unabated  ardor.  With  the  view  of  vindicating  it  from 
some  popular  objections,  and  of  refuting  some  prevailing 
errors  on  the  subject  of  military  science,  he  wrote  his 
seven  books  on  the  Art  of  War.  This  excellent  work  is 
in  the  form  of  a  dialogue.  The  opinions  of  the  writer  are 
put  into  the  mouth  of  Fabrizio  Colonna,  a  powerful  noble- 
man of  the  Ecclesiastical  State,  and  an  officer  of  distin- 
guished merit  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Spain. 
Colonna  visits  Florence  on  his  way  from  Lombardy  to 


MACniAVELLI  413 

his  own  domains.  He  is  invited  to  meet  some  friends  at 
the  house  of  Cosimo  Ruccllai,  an  amiable  and  accom- 
plished young  man,  whose  early  death  Machiavclli  feel- 
ingly deplores.  After  partaking  of  an  elegant  entertain- 
ment, they  retire  from  the  heat  into  the  most  shady 
recesses  of  the  garden.  Fabrizio  is  struck  by  the  sight  of 
some  uncommon  plants.  Cosimo  says  that,  though  rare, 
in  modem  days,  they  are  frequently  mciitionod  by  the 
classical  authors,  and  that  his  grandfather,  like  many 
other  Italians,  amused  himself  with  i)ractisiiig  the  ancient 
methods  of  gardening.  Fabrizio  expresses  his  regret  that 
those  who,  in  later  times,  aflFectod  the  manners  of  the  old 
Romans  should  select  for  imitation  the  most  trifling 
pursuits.  This  leads  to  a  conversation  on  the  decline  of 
military  disc-ipline  and  on  the  best  means  of  restoring  it. 
The  institution  of  the  Florentine  militia  is  alily  defended; 
and  several  improvements  are  suggested  in  the  details. 

The  Swiss  and  the  Si)aniards  were,  at  that  time,  re- 
garded as  the  best  soldiers  in  Europe.  Tlie  Swiss  bat- 
talion consisted  of  pikemen,  and  bore  a  close  resemblance 
to  the  Greek  phalanx.  The  Spaniards,  like  the  soldiers 
of  Home,  were  armed  wi(li  llie  sword  and  th(>  shield.  The 
victories  of  Flamininus  and  .Emilius  over  the  Macedonian 
kings  seem  to  prove  the  superiority  of  the  weapons  used 
by  the  legions.  The  same  experiment  had  been  recently 
tried  with  the  same  result  at  the  battle  of  Kavenna,  one 
of  those  tremendous  days  int«i  which  biinian  folly  and 
wickedness  comjjress  the  wlmle  devastation  ot  a  lamino 
or  a  plague.  In  that  memorable  confli<-t,  the  infantry  of 
Arragon,  the  (dd  eonipanioiis  of  fJonsalvo,*  deserted  liy  all 
their  allies,  hewed  a  jiassjige  tlirougli  the  thickest  of  the 
imperial  pikes,  and  etTeeted  an  unbroken  retreat,  in  tlio 
face  of  the  gendarmerie  of  Dc  Foix.  iind  the  renowned  ar- 
tillery of  Este.  Fal)rizio,  or  rather  Machiavclli,  proi)ose8  to 
combine  the  two  systems,  to  arm  the  foremost  lines  with 
the  pike  for  the  purpose  of  repulsing  cavalry,  and  those 
in  the  rear  with  the  sword,  as  ln'ing  a  weapon  i>etter 
adapted  for  every  other  purpose.  Throiighout  tlie  work 
the  author  expresses  the  highest  admiration  of  the  inili- 

•  GonBnlvo  (1<-  Tordova,  a  fnmouR  .SpnnlBli  Koncrnl.  wlio  foiiRhl 
BKalnst  th.'  I'crBluiiH  uiiil  Moors,  niid  was  liislruiiifiiltil  In  brliigliig 
about  tbc  union  o(  Caatllu  and   Granudu. 


414  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

tary  science  of  the  ancient  Romans,  and  the  greatest  con- 
tempt for  the  maxims  which  had  been  in  vogue  amongst 
the  Italian  commanders  of  the  preceding  generation.  He 
prefers  infantry  to  cavalry,  and  fortified  camps  to  fortified 
towns.  He  is  inclined  to  substitute  rapid  movements  and 
decisive  engagements  for  the  languid  and  dilatory  opera- 
tions of  his  countrymen.  He  attaches  very  little  impor- 
tance to  the  invention  of  gunpowder.  Indeed  he  seems 
to  think  that  it  ought  scarcely  to  produce  any  change  in 
the  mode  of  arming  and  disposing  troops.  The  general 
testimony  of  historians,  it  must  be  allowed,  seems  to  prove 
that  the  ill-constructed  and  ill-served  artillery  of  those 
times,  though  useful  in  a  siege,  was  of  little  value  on  the 
field  of  battle. 

Of  the  tactics  of  Machiavelli  we  will  not  venture  to  give 
an  opinion;  but  we  are  certain  that  his  book  is  most  able 
and  interesting.  As  a  commentary  on  the  history  of  his 
times,  it  is  invaluable.  The  ingenuity,  the  grace,  and 
the  perspicuity  of  the  style,  and  the  eloquence  and  anima- 
tion of  particular  passages,  must  give  pleasure  even  to 
readers  who  take  no  interest  in  the  subject. 

The  Prince  and  the  Discourses  on  Livy  were  written 
after  the  fall  of  the  Republican  Government.  The  former 
was  dedicated  to  the  Young  Lorenzo  de'  Medici.  This 
circumstance  seems  to  have  disgusted  the  contemporaries 
of  the  writer  far  more  than  the  doctrines  which  have 
rendered  the  name  of  the  work  odious  in  later  times.  It 
was  considered  as  an  indication  of  political  apostasy.  The 
fact  however  scorns  to  have  been  that  Machiavelli,  de- 
spairing of  the  liberty  of  Florence,  was  inclined  to  sup- 
port any  government  which  might  preserve  her  independ- 
ence. The  interval  which  separated  a  democracy  and  a 
despotism,  Soderini  and  Lorenzo,  seemed  to  vanish  when 
compared  with  the  difference  between  the  former  and  the 
present  state  of  Italy,  between  the  security,  the  opulence, 
and  the  repose  which  she  had  enjoyed  under  its  native 
rulers,  and  the  misery  in  which  she  had  been  plunged 
since  the  fatal  year  in  which  the  first  foreign  tyrant  had 
descended  from  the  Alps.  The  noble  and  pathetic  ex- 
hortation with  which  The  Prince  concludes  shows  how 
strongly  the  writer  felt  upon  this  subject. 

The  Prince  traces  the  progress  of  an  ambitious  man. 


MACHIAVELLI  415 

the  Discourses  the  progress  of  an  ambitious  people.  The 
same  principles  on  which,  in  the  former  work,  the  eleva- 
tion of  an  individual  is  explained,  are  applied  in  the 
latter,  to  the  longer  duration  and  more  complex  interest 
of  a  society.  To  a  modern  statesman  the  form  of  the  Dis- 
courses may  appear  to  be  puerile.  In  truth  Livy  is  not  an 
historian  on  whom  implicit  reliance  can  be  placed,  even  in 
cases  where  he  must  have  possessed  considerable  means  of 
information.  And  the  first  Decade,  to  which  Machiavelli 
has  confined  himself,  is  scarcely  entitled  to  more  credit 
than  our  Chronicle  of  British  Kings  who  reigned  before 
the  Roman  invasion.  "But  the  commentator  is  indebted  to 
Livy  for  little  more  than  a  few  texts  which  he  might  as 
easily  have  extracted  from  the  Vulgate  or  Decameron. 
The  whole  train  of  thought  is  original. 

On  the  peculiar  immortality  which  has  rendered  Tlu' 
Prince  unpopular,  and  which  is  almost  equally  discernible 
in  the  Disfourses,  we  have  already  given  o\ir  opinion  at 
length.  We  have  attempted  to  show  that  it  belonged 
rather  to  the  age  than  to  the  man,  that  it  was  a  partial 
taint,  aTid  by  no  means  implied  general  dcjtravity.  We 
cannot  howev(^r  deny  that  it  is  a  great  lilcinish  and  that 
it  considerably  diminishes  the  pleasure  which,  in  other 
respects,  those  works  must  afford  to  overy  intclligciil  mind. 

It  is,  indeed,  imi)ossil)l(.'  to  conceive  a  more  bcaltblul 
and  vigorous  constitution  of  the  understanding  than  that 
which  these  works  indicate.  The  (pialities  of  the  active 
and  the  contemplative  statesman  appear  to  have  been 
blended  in  the  mind  r.f  the  writer  into  a  rare  and  ex- 
quisite harmony.  His  skill  in  the  details  of  b\isiness  had 
not  been  acrpiired  at  the  expense  of  liis  general  powers. 
It  had  not  rendered  his  mind  less  comprehensive;  but  it 
had  served  to  correct  bis  siieculations,  and  to  inijiart  to 
them  that  vivid  practical  cbara<-ter  wliich  so  widely  dis- 
tinguishes them  from  the  vague  theories  of  most  political 
philosophers. 

Every  man  who  has  seen  the  world  knows  that  nothing 
is  so  useless  as  n  gj-neral  maxim.  If  it  be  very  moral  and 
very  true,  it  may  serve  for  n  copy  to  a  cbarify-boy.  If, 
like  tbose  of  Kocliefoucault,*  it  be  sjiarkling  and  wbimsical, 

•  A    17th    century    French    morallgt,    known    to    lltcraturn    by    his 
memolm  and  corrPHpondcnce. 


410  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

it  may  make  an  excellent  motto  for  an  essay.  But  few 
indeed  of  the  many  wise  apophthegms  which  have  been 
uttered,  from  the  time  of  the  Seven  Sages  of  Greece  to 
that  of  Poor  Kichard  *  have  prevented  a  single  foolish 
action.  We  give  the  highest  and  the  most  peculiar  praise 
to  the  precepts  of  Machiavelli  when  wo  say  that  they  may 
frequently  be  of  real  use  in  regulating  conduct,  not  so 
much  because  they  are  more  just  or  more  profound  than 
those  which  might  be  called  from  other  authors,  as  because 
they  can  be  more  readily  applied  to  the  problems  of  real 
life. 

There  are  errors  in  these  works.  But  they  are  errors 
which  a  writer  situated  like  Machiavelli  could  scarcely 
avoid.  They  arise,  for  the  most  part,  from  a  single  defect, 
which  appears  to  us  to  pervade  his  whole  system.  In  his 
political  scheme,  the  menus  had  been  more  deeply  con- 
sidered than  the  ends.  The  great  principle,  that  societies 
and  laws  exist  only  for  the  purpose  of  increasing  the  sum 
of  private  happiness,  is  not  recognized  with  sufficient 
clearness.  The  good  of  the  body,  distinct  from  the  good 
of  the  members,  and  sometimes  hardly  compatible  with 
the  good  of  the  members,  seems  to  be  the  object  which  he 
proposes  to  himself.  Of  all  political  fallacies,  this  has 
perhaps  had  the  widest  and  the  most  mischievous  opera- 
tion. The  state  of  society  in  the  little  commonwealth  of 
Greece,  the  close  connection  and  mutual  dependence  of 
the  citizens,  and  the  severity  of  the  laws  of  war,  tended 
to  encourage  an  opinion  which,  under  such  circumstances, 
could  hardly  be  called  erroneous.  The  interests  of  every 
individual  were  inseparal)ly  bound  up  with  those  of  the 
state.  An  invasion  destroyed  his  cornfields  and  vineyards, 
drove  him  from  his  home,  and  compelled  him  to  encounter 
all  the  hardships  of  a  military  life.  A  treaty  of  peace 
restored  him  to  security  and  comfort.  A  victory  doubled 
the  numl)er  of  his  slaves.  A  defeat  perhaps  made  him  a 
slave  himself.  When  Pericles,  in  the  Pelnponnesian  war, 
told  the  Athenians,  that,  if  their  country  triumphed,  their 
private  losses  would  speedily  be  repaid,  but  that,  if  their 
arms  failed  of  success,  every  individual  amongst  them 
would  probably   be  ruined,  he  spoke  no   more  than   the 

•  Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  published  by  Benjamin   Franklin   from 
1732-1737,    was    famous    for    its   maxims. 


MACIIIAVELLI  417 

truth.  He  spoke  to  men  whom  the  tribute  of  vanquished 
cities  supplied  with  goods  and  clothing,  with  the  luxury 
of  the  bath  and  the  amusements  of  the  theater,  on  whom 
the  greatness  of  their  country  conferred  rank,  and  before 
whom  the  members  of  less  prosperous  communities  trem- 
bled ;  to  men  who,  in  case  of  a  change  in  the  public 
fortunes,  would,  at  least,  be  deprived  of  every  comfort 
and  every  distinction  which  they  enjoyed.  To  be  butch- 
ered on  the  smoking  ruins  of  their  city,  to  bo  dragged  in 
chains  to  a  slave-market,  to  see  one  child  torn  from  them 
to  dig  in  the  quarries  of  Sicily,  and  another  to  guard  the 
harems  of  Persepolis,  these  were  the  frequent  and  prob- 
able consequences  of  national  calamities.  Hence,  among 
the  Greeks,  patriotism  became  a  governing  principle,  or 
rather  an  ungovernable  passion.  Their  legislators  and 
their  philosophers  took  it  for  granted  that,  in  providing 
for  the  strength  and  greatness  of  the  state,  they  suffi- 
cientlj'  provided  for  the  happiness  of  the  people.  The 
writers  of  the  Roman  empire  lived  under  despots,  into 
whose  dominion  a  hundred  nations  were  melted  down, 
and  whose  gardens  would  have  covered  the  little  com- 
monwealths of  Pldius  and  Plata-a.  Yet  they  continued 
to  employ  the  same  language,  and  to  cant  about  the  duty 
of  sacrificing  everything  to  a  country  to  which  they  owed 
nothing. 

Causes  similar  to  those  which  had  influenced  the  dis- 
position of  tlie  flreeks  operated  pitwerfnlly  on  the  less 
vigorous  and  daring  diaracter  of  the  Italians.  The 
Italians,  like  the  Cireeks,  were  members  of  small  com- 
munities. Every  man  was  rleeply  interested  in  tli(»  wel- 
fare of  the  society  to  whieh  he  bebmged,  a  partaker  in  its 
wealth  and  its  poverty,  in  its  glory  and  its  shame.  In 
the  age  of  ^raebiavelll  this  was  j)eeiiliarly  the  case. 
Public  events  had  j)ro(|iieed  an  immense  H)nn  of  misery 
to  private  citizens.  The  Northern  invaders  hail  lirougbt 
want  to  their  bojirds,  infamy  to  tlieir  beds,  fire  to  tlieir 
roofs,  and  the  kniA;  to  their  throats.  It  was  natural  that 
a  man  who  lived  in  times  like  tlu-se  slioidd  overrate  the 
importance  of  those  mensiires  by  whieh  a  nation  is  ren- 
dered formidable  to  its  neighbors,  and  undervalue  those 
which  make  it  prosperou.s  within   itself. 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  the  political  treaties  of 


418  IIISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

Macliiavclli  than  the  fairness  of  mind  which  they  indi- 
cate. It  appears  where  the  author  is  in  the  wrong,  almost 
as  stronglj'  as  where  he  is  in  the  right.  lie  never  ad- 
vances a  false  opinion  because  it  is  new  or  splendid,  be- 
cause he  can  clothe  it  in  a  happy  phrase,  or  defend  it  by 
an  ingenious  sophism.  His  errors  are  at  once  explained 
by  a  reference  to  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed.  They  evidently  were  not  sought  out;  they  lay  in 
Lis  way,  and  could  scarcely  be  avoided.  Such  mistakes 
must  necessarily  be  committed  by  early  speculators  in 
every  science. 

In  this  respect  it  is  amusing  to  compare  The  Prince 
and  the  Discourses  with  the  Spirit  of  Laws.  Montesquieu* 
enjoys,  perhaps,  a  wider  celebrity  than  any  political  writer 
of  modern  Europe.  Something  he  doubtless  owes  to  his 
merit,  but  much  more  to  his  fortune.  He  had  the  good 
luck  of  a  Valentine.  He  caught  the  eye  of  the  French 
nation,  at  the  moment  when  it  was  waking  from  the  long 
sleep  of  political  and  religious  bigotry;  and,  in  conse- 
quence, he  became  a  favorite.  The  English,  at  that  time, 
considered  a  Frenchman  who  talked  about  constitutional 
checks  and  fundamental  laws  as  a  prodigy  not  less  aston- 
ishing than  the  learned  pig  or  the  musical  infant. 
Specious  but  shallow,  studious  of  effect,  indifferent  to 
truth,  eager  to  build  a  system,  but  careless  of  collecting 
those  materials  out  of  which  alone  a  sound  and  durable 
system  can  be  built,  the  lively  President  constructed 
theories  as  rapidly  and  as  slightly  as  card-houses,  no 
sooner  projected  than  completed,  no  sooner  completed 
than  blown  away,  no  sooner  blown  away  than  forgotten. 
Machiavelli  errs  only  because  his  experience,  acquired  in 
a  very  peculiar  state  of  society,  could  not  always  enable 
him  to  calculate  the  effect  of  institutions  differing  from 
those  of  which  he  had  observed  the  operation.  Montesquieu 
errs,  because  he  has  a  fine  thing  to  say,  and  is  resolved  to 
say  it.  If  the  phenomena  which  lie  before  him  will  not 
suit  his  purpose,  all  history  must  be  ransacked.  If 
nothing  established  by  authentic  testimony  can  be  racked 
or  chipped  to  suit  his  Procrustean  hypothesis,  he  puts  up 
■with  some  monstrous  fable  about  Siam,  or  Bantam,  or 

*  Montpsquipu,  the  author  of  "L'Esprit  des  lois,"  waa  a  severe 
critic  of  his  own  time. 


MACniAVELLI  419 

Japan,  told  by  writers  compared  •with  whom  Lucian  and 
Gulliver  were  veracious,  liars  by  a  double  right,  as  trav- 
elers aud  as  Jesuits. 

Propriety  of  thought,  and  propriety  of  diction,  are 
commonly  found  together.  Ob&curity  and  affection  are 
the  two  greatest  faults  of  style.  Obscurity  of  expression 
generallj'  springs  from  confusion  of  ideas;  and  the  same 
wish  to  dazzle  at  any  cost  wbich  produt-es  atfectation  in 
the  manner  of  a  writer,  is  likely  to  produce  sophistry  in 
his  reasonings.  The  judicious  and  candid  mind  of 
Machiavclli  shows  itself  in  his  luminous,  manly,  and 
polished  language.  The  style  of  Montesquieu,  on  the 
other  hand,  indicates  in  every  page  a  lively  and  ingenious, 
but  an  unsound  mind.  Every  trick  of  expression,  from 
the  mysterious  conciseness  of  an  oracle  to  the  flippancy 
of  a  Parisian  coxcomb,  is  employed  to  disguise  the  fallacy 
of  some  positions,  and  tbe  triteness  of  others.  Absurdities 
are  brightened  into  epigrams;  truisms  are  darkened  into 
enigmas.  It  is  with  difficulty  tliat  the  strongest  eye  can 
sustain  the  glare  witli  wliiili  sume  parts  are  illuminated, 
or  penetrate  tbe  shade  in  wbich  otbers  are  concealed. 

The  political  works  of  Machiavclli  derive  a  peculi.ir 
interest  from  tb(>  mournful  earnestness  wbich  be  mani- 
fests whenever  he  touches  on  topics  connected  with  tbo 
calamitir's  of  liis  native  laiui.  It  is  difficnlt  to  conceive 
any  situation  more  i)ainful  tban  tbat  of  a  great  man, 
condemned  to  watch  tbe  lingering  agony  of  an  exbaustcd 
country,  to  temi  it  during  tbe  alternate  fits  of  stui)efactioii 
and  raving  wbicji  prece<le  its  dissolution,  and  to  see  tbo 
symptoms  of  vitality  disappear  one  by  one,  till  notbing  is 
left  but  erildness.  darkness,  and  corruption.  To  tliis  joyless 
and  tbankless  duty  was  .Macbiavelli  calli-d.  In  tbe  energetic 
language  of  tbe  propbet,  he  was  "mad  for  tbo  sight  of  his 
i'yes  which  Ik;  saw,"  disunion  in  tlie  cf)uncil,  cfTeniinaey 
in  the  camp,  lilierty  extinguisbed,  commerce?  decaying, 
national  honor  sullied,  an  eidigbtened  and  flourishinff 
peoj)le  given  over  to  tbe  ferocity  of  ij^norant  savages. 
Though  bis  o[iinions  bad  not  e^f-ap*-*!  the  contagion  of 
that  political  immorality  which  was  common  among  his 
countrymen,  bis  natural  disjtosition  seems  to  have  bciMi 
rather  stern  and  irn[ief nous  tban  pliant  and  artful.  When 
the  misery  and  degradation  of  Florcncp  and  the  foul  out- 


420  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

rage  which  he  had  himself  sustained  recur  to  his  mind, 
the  smooth  craft  of  his  profession  and  his  nation  is  ex- 
changed for  the  honest  bitterness  of  scorn  and  anger. 
He  speaks  like  one  sick  of  the  calamitous  times  and  abject 
people  among  whom  his  lot  is  cast.  He  pines  for  the 
strength  and  glory  of  ancient  Rome,  for  the  fasces  of 
Brutus  and  the  sword  of  Scipio,  the  gravity  of  the  curule 
chair,  and  the  bloody  pomp  of  the  triumphal  sacrifice.  He 
seems  to  be  transported  back  to  the  days  when  eight 
hundred  thousand  Italian  warriors  sprung  to  arms  at  the 
rumor  of  a  Gallic  invasion.  He  breathes  all  the  spirit 
of  those  intrepid  and  haughy  senators  who  forgot  the 
dearest  ties  of  nature  in  the  claims  of  public  duty,  who 
looked  with  disdain  on  the  elephants  and  on  the  gold  of 
Pyrrhus,  and  listened  with  unaltered  composure  to  the 
tremendous  tidings  of  Cannaj.  Like  an  ancient  temple 
deformed  by  the  barbarous  architecture  of  a  later  age, 
his  character  acquires  an  interest  from  the  very  circum- 
stances which  debase  it.  The  original  proportions  are 
rendered  more  striking  by  the  contrast  which  they  present 
to  the  mean  and  incongruous  additions. 

The  influence  of  the  sentiments  which  we  have  de- 
scribed was  not  apparent  in  his  writings  alone.  His 
enthusiasm,  barred  from  the  career  which  it  would  have 
selected  for  itself,  seems  to  have  found  a  vent  in  desperate 
levity.  He  enjoyed  a  vindictive  pleasure  in  outraging 
the  opinions  of  a  society  which  he  despised.  He  became 
careless  of  the  decencies  which  were  expected  from  a  man 
so  highly  distinguished  in  the  literary  and  political  world. 
The  sarcastic  bitterness  of  his  conversation  disgusted 
those  who  were  more  inclined  to  accuse  his  licentiousness 
than  their  own  degeneracy,  and  who  were  unable  to  con- 
ceive the  strength  of  those  emotions  which  are  con- 
cealed by  the  jests  of  the  wretched,  and  by  the  follies  of 
the  wise. 

The  historical  works  of  Machiavelli  still  remain  to  be 
considered.  The  life  of  Castruccio  Castracani  will  occupy 
■us  for  a  very  short  time,  and  would  scarcely  have  demanded 
our  notice,  had  it  not  attracted  a  much  greater  share  of 
public  attention  than  it  deserves.  Few  books,  indeed,  could 
be  more  interesting  than  a  careful  and  judicious  account, 
from  such  a  pen,  of  the  illustrious  Prince  of  Lucca,  the 


MACHIAVELLI  421 

most  eminent  of  those  Italian  chiefs,  who,  like  Pisistratus* 
and  Gelon,t  acquired  a  power  felt  rather  than  seen,  and 
resting,  not  on  law  or  on  prescription,  but  on  the  public 
favor  and  on  their  great  personal  qualities.  Such  a  work 
would  exhibit  to  us  the  real  nature  of  that  species  of 
sovereignty,  so  singular  and  so  often  misunderstood, 
which  the  Greeks  denominated  tyranny,  and  which, 
modified  in  some  degree  by  the  feudal  system,  reappeared 
in  the  commonwealths  of  Lombardy  and  Tuscany.  But 
this  little  composition  of  Machiavclli  is  in  no  sense  a 
history.  It  has  no  pretensions  to  fidelity.  It  is  a  trifle, 
and  not  a  very  successful  trifle.  It  is  scarcely  more  au- 
thentic than  the  novel  of  Belphegor,:}:  and  is  very  much 
duller. 

The  last  great  work  of  this  illustrious  man  was  the 
history  of  his  native  city.  It  was  written  by  command 
of  the  Pope,  who,  as  chief  of  the  house  of  Medici,  was 
at  the  time  sovereign  of  Florence.  The  characters  of 
Cosmo,  of  Piero,  and  of  Lorenzo,  are,  however,  treated 
with  a  freedom  and  impartiality  equally  honorable  to  the 
writer  and  to  the  patron.  The  miseries  and  humiliations 
of  dependence,  the  bread  which  is  more  bitter  than  every 
other  food,  the  stairs  which  are  more  painful  than  every 
other  ascent,  had  not  ])roken  the  spirit  of  Machiavelli. 
Th(!  most  corrupting  post  in  a  corrupting  profession  had 
not  rlcpraved   the  generous  heart  of  Clement. 

The  History  does  not  appear  to  be  the  fruit  of  much 
industr>'  or  research.  It  is  unquestionaly  inaccurate. 
But  it  is  elegant,  lively,  and  picturesqtie,  l)eyond  any  other 
in  the  Italian  language.  The  reader,  we  believe,  carries 
away  from  it  a  more  vivid  and  a  more  faithful  impres- 
sion of  the  national  character  and  manners  than  from 
more  correr-t  accounts.  The  trutli  is,  tliat  the  book  be- 
longs ratbr-r  to  ancient  than  to  modern  literature.  It  is 
in  the  style,  not  of  Davila  and  Clarendon,  but  of  Ilerodo- 

*  I'lHlntratUH  wnH  a  tyrant  of  AthrnR  and  a  friond  of  Solon,  during 
whoHfi  relf;n  th«  work  of  collcctlnR  the  poems  of  Homor  waa  under- 
takpn. 

t  fjclon.  a  SIrllInn  rulor  of  thp  ."jth  Cfnfiiry  D.C,  was  at  ono 
timf"  tyrant   of  .SyracnHiv 

t  Thi-  IfRi'tul  of  Hrlplif-Kor  Ih  that  of  an  arrhdcnicm  Hont  by  Pluto 
to  teKt  thf  JoyH  of  earthly  wedded  life.  After  a  brief  and  unpliiiHiint 
stay  above  Kround  he  rriurned  to  give  hlH  report.  Maehluvelll  is 
reputed  to  have  taken   fix-  tale  from  an  ancient   Latin   niH. 


422  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

tus  and  Tacitus.  The  classical  histories  may  almost  be 
called  romances  founded  in  fact.  The  relation  is,  no 
doubt,  in  all  its  principal  points,  strictly  true.  But  the 
numerous  little  incidents  which  heighten  the  interest, 
the  words,  the  gestures,  the  looks,  are  evidently  furnished 
by  the  imajiination  of  the  author.  The  fashion  of  later 
times  is  different.  A  more  exact  narrative  is  given  by 
the  writer.  It  may  be  doubted  whether  more  exact 
notions  are  conveyed  to  the  reader.  The  best  portraits 
are  perhaps  those  in  which  there  is  a  slight  mixture  of 
caricature;  and  we  are  not  certain  that  the  best  histories 
are  not  those  in  which  a  little  of  the  exaggeration  of 
fictitious  narratives  is  judiciously  employed.  Something 
is  lost  in  accuracy;  but  much  is  gained  in  effect.  The 
fainter  lines  are  neglected;  but  the  great  characteristic 
features  are  imprinted  on  the  mind  forever. 

The  History  terminates  with  the  death  of  Lorenzo 
de  Medici.  Machiavelli  had,  it  seems,  intended  to  con- 
tinue his  narrative  to  a  later  period.  But  his  death  pre- 
vented the  execution  of  his  design;  and  the  melancholj- 
task  of  recording  the  desolation  and  shame  of  Italy  de- 
volved on  Guicciardini. 

Machiavelli  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  commence- 
ment of  the  last  struggle  for  Florentine  liberty.  Soon 
after  his  death  monarchy  was  finally  established,  not  such 
a  monarchy  as  that  of  which  Cosmo  had  laid  the  founda- 
tions deep  in  the  institutions  and  feelings  of  his  country- 
men, and  which  Lorenzo  had  embellished  with  the  trophies 
of  every  science  and  every  art;  but  a  loathsome  tyranny, 
proud  and  mean,  cruel  and  feel)le,  bigoted  and  lascivious. 
The  character  of  Machiavelli  was  hateful  to  the  new  mas- 
ters of  Italy;  and  those  parts  of  his  theory  which  were  in 
strict  accordance  with  their  own  daily  practise  afforded 
a  pretext  for  l)lackening  his  memory.  His  works  were 
misrepresented  by  the  learned,  misconstrued  by  the  igno- 
rant, censured  by  the  Church,  abused  with  all  the  rancor 
of  simulated  virtue,  by  the  tools  of  a  base  government, 
and  the  priests  of  a  baser  superstition.  The  name  of  the 
man  whose  genius  had  illuminated  all  the  dark  places 
of  policy,  and  to  whose  patriotic  wisdom  an  oppressed 
people  had  owed  their  last  chance  of  emancipation  and 
revenge,  passed  into  a  proverb  of  infamy.    For  more  than 


MACHIAVELLI  423 

two  hundred  years  his  bones  lay  undistinguished.  At 
length  an  English  nobleman  paid  the  last  honors  to  the 
greatest  statesman  of  Florence.  In  the  Church  of  Santa 
Croce  a  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory,  which  is 
contemphited  with  reverence  by  all  who  can  distinguish 
the  virtues  of  a  great  mind  through  the  corruptions  of  a 
degenerate  age,  and  which  will  be  approached  with  still 
deeper  homage  when  the  object  to  which  his  public  life 
was  devoted  shall  be  attained,  when  the  foreign  yoke  shall 
be  broken,  wben  a  second  Proeida*  shall  avenge  the  wrongs 
of  Naples,  when  a  happier  Rienzi  +  shall  restore  the  good 
estate  of  Rome,  when  tbe  streets  of  Florence  and  Bologna 
shall  again  resouiul  with  their  ancient  war-cry,  Popolo; 
popolo;  muoiano  i  tirannUX 

*  Giovanni  Procida  was  an  Ualian  patriot  of  the  13th  century, 
the  reputed  leader  of  the  massacre  of  the  French  in  Sicily. 

t  Rienzi  was  a  famous  Italian  revolutionary  leader,  killed  in  a 
riot  at  Rome  in  1354. 

X  The  people  !     The  people  !     Death  to  tyrants  ! 


FREDEKIC  THE  GREAT.     (April,  1842.) 

Frederick  the  Great  and  Ms  Times.  Edited,  with  an  Intro- 
duction, by  Thomas  Campbell,  Esq.  2  vols.  8vo.  London: 
1842. 

This  work,  which  has  the  high  honor  of  being  introduced 
to  the  world  by  the  author  of  Lochiel  and  Hohenlindon, 
is  not  wholly  unworthy  of  so  distinguished  a  chaperon. 
It  professes,  indeed,  to  be  no  more  than  a  compilation; 
but  it  is  exceedingly  amusing  compilation,  and  we  shall 
be  glad  to  have  more  of  it.  The  narrative  comes  down 
at  present  only  to  the  commencement  of  the  Seven  Years' 
War,  and  theroforo  does  not  comprise  the  most  interesting 
portion  of  Frederic's  reign. 

It  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  our  readers  that  we 
should  take  this  opportunity  of  presenting  them  with  a 
slight  sketch  of  the  life  of  the  greatest  king  that  has,  in 
modern  times,  succeeded  by  right  of  birth  to  a  throne. 
It  may,  we  fear,  bo  impossible  to  compress  so  long  and 
eventful  a  story  within  the  limits  which  we  must  prescribe 
to  ourselves.  Should  we  be  compelled  to  break  oflF,  we 
may  perhaps,  when  the  continuation  of  this  work  appears, 
return  to  the  subject. 

The  Prussian  monarchy,  the  youngest  of  the  great 
European  states,  but  in  population  and  revenue  the  fifth 
among  them,  and  in  art,  science,  and  civilization  entitled 
to  the  third,  if  not  to  the  second  place,  sprang  from  a 
humble  origin.  About  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  the  marquisate  of  Brandenburg  was  bestowed 
by  the  Emperor  Sigismund  on  the  noble  family  of 
Ilohenzollern.  In  the  sixteenth  century  that  family  em- 
braced the  Lutheran  doctrines.  It  obtained  from  the 
King  of  Poland,  early  in  the  seventeenth  century,  the 
investiture  of  the  duchy  of  Prussia.  Even  after  thig 
accession  of  territory,  the  chiefs  of  the  house  of  Ilohen- 
zollern hardly   ranked  with  the  electors  of  Saxony   and 

424 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  425 

Bavaria.  The  soil  of  Brandenburg  was  for  the  most  part 
sterile.  Even  round  Berlin,  the  capital  of  the  province, 
and  round  Potsdam,  the  favorite  residence  of  the  Mar- 
graves, the  country  was  a  desert.  In  some  places,  the  deep 
sand  could  with  difficulty  be  forced  by  assiduous  tilUige 
to  yield  thin  crops  of  rye  and  oats.  In  other  phices,  the 
ancient  forests,  from  which  the  conquerors  of  the  Roman 
empire  had  descended  on  the  Danube,  remained  untouched 
by  the  hand  of  man.  Where  the  soil  was  rich  it  was 
generally  marshy,  and  its  insalubrity  repelled  the  culti- 
vators whom  its  fertility  attracted.  Frederic  William, 
called  the  Great  Elector,  was  the  prince  to  whose  policy 
his  successors  have  agreed  to  ascribe  their  greatness.  He 
acquired  by  the  peace  of  Westphalia  several  valuable 
possessions,  and  among  them  the  rich  city  and  district 
of  Magdeburg;  and  he  left  to  his  son  Frederic  a  principal- 
ity as  considerable  as  any  which  was  not  called  a  kingdom. 

Frederic  aspired  to  the  style  of  royalty.  Ostentatious 
and  profuse,  negligent  of  his  true  interests  and  of  his 
high  duties,  insatiably  eager  for  frivolous  distinctions, 
he  added  nothing  to  the  real  weight  of  the  state  which  he 
governed:  perhaps  he  transmitted  his  inheritance  to  his 
children  impaired  rather  than  augumented  in  value:  but 
he  succeedf'd  in  gaining  the  great  olgect  of  his  life,  the 
title  of  King.  In  the  year  1700  he  assumed  his  new 
dignity.  He  had  on  that  occasion  to  undergo  all  the 
mortifications  which  fall  to  the  lot  of  ambitious  upstarts. 
Compared  with  the  other  crowned  heads  of  Europe,  he 
made  a  figure  resembling  that  which  a  Nabob  or  a  Com- 
missary, who  ha<l  bought  a  title,  would  make  in  the  com- 
pany of  I'errs  whoso  ancestors  had  Itcen  attainted  for  trea- 
son against  the  Plantagenets.  The  envy  of  the  class  which 
Frf'deric  (initted,  an<l  tlie  civil  scorn  of  the  class  into 
whif'h  he  intruded  himself,  were  nnirkcd  in  very  signifi- 
cant ways.  The  Elcftor  of  Saxony  at  first  rcfu.sed  to 
acknowledge  the  new  Afajcsty.  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
looke<l  down  on  his  brother  King  with  an  air  not  unlike 
that  which  the  Count  in  Molicre's  play  regards  Monsieur 
Jo\irdain,*  just  fn-sh  from  the  nuinuncrv  of  being  made  a 
gentleman.  Austria  exacted  large  sacrifices  in  retiirn  for 
her  recognition,  and  at  last  gave  it  ungraciously. 

•  A  character  In  MoUdre's  "Bourgeois  gcntllhomme." 


426  HISTOEICAL  ESSAYS 

Frederic  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Frederic  William,  a 
prince  who  must  be  allowed  to  have  possessed  some  talents 
for  administration,  but  whose  character  was  disfigured 
by  odious  vices,  and  whose  eccentricities  were  such  as 
had  never  before  been  seen  out  of  a  madhouse.  He  was 
exact  and  diligent  in  the  transacting  of  business;  and 
he  was  the  first  who  formed  the  design  of  obtaining  for 
Pru?;sia  a  place  among  the  European  powers,  altogether 
out  of  proportion  to  her  extent  and  population,  by  means 
of  a  strong  military  organization.  Strict  economy  enabled 
him  to  keep  up  a  peace  establishment  of  sixty  thousand 
troops.  These  troojis  were  disciplined  in  such  a  manner, 
that  placed  beside  them,  the  household  regiments  of  Ver- 
sailles and  St,  James's  would  have  appeared  an  awkward 
squad.  The  master  of  such  a  force  could  not  but  be 
regarded  by  all  his  neighbors  as  a  formidable  enemy  and 
a  valuable  ally. 

But  the  mind  of  Frederic  William  was  so  ill  regulated, 
that  all  his  inclinations  became  passions,  and  all  his  pas- 
sions partook  of  the  character  of  moral  and  intellectual 
disease.  His  parsimony  degenerated  into  a  sordid  avarice. 
His  tastes  for  military  pomp  and  order  became  a  mania, 
like  that  of  a  Dutch  l)urgomaster  for  tulips,  or  that  of  a 
member  of  the  Roxburghe  Club  *  for  Caxtons.  While  the 
envoys  of  the  Court  of  Berlin  were  in  a  state  of  such 
squalid  poverty  as  moved  the  laughter  of  foreign  capitals, 
while  the  food  placed  before  the  princes  and  princesses 
of  the  blood  royal  of  Prussia  was  too  scanty  to  appease 
hunger,  and  so  bad  that  even  hunger  loathed  it,  no  price 
was  thought  too  extravagant  for  tall  recruits.  The  ambition 
of  the  King  was  to  form  a  brigade  of  giants,  and  every 
country  was  ransacked  bj'  his  agents  for  men  above  the 
ordinary  stature.  These  researches  were  not  confined  to 
Europe.  No  head  that  towered  above  the  crowd  in  the 
bazaars  of  Aleppo,  of  Cairo,  or  of  Surat,  could  escape  the 
crimps  of  Frederic  William.  One  Irishman  more  than 
seven  feet  high,  who  was  picked  up  in  London  by  the 
Prussian  ambassador,  received  a  bounty  of  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  pounds  sterling,  very  much  more  than  the  am- 
bassador's salary.     This  extravagance  was  the  more  ab- 

•  The  Roxburghe  Club,  founded  in  1812.  had  for  its  purpose  the 
preservation  and  reprinting  of  rare  pieces  of  literature. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  427 

surd,  because  a  stout  youth  of  five  feet  ei^ht,  who  mijjht 
have  been  procured  for  a  few  dolhirs,  would  in  all  proba- 
bility have  been  a  much  more  valuable  soldier.  But  to 
Frederic  William,  this  huge  Irishman  was  what  a  brass 
Otho,  or  a  Vinegar  Bible,  is  to  a  collector  of  a  different 
kind. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  though  the  main  end  of  Frederic 
William's  administratioii  was  to  have  a  great  military 
force,  though  his  reign  forms  an  important  epoch  in  the 
history  of  military  discipline,  and  though  his  dominant 
passion  was  the  love  of  military  display,  he  was  yet  one  of 
the  mo.st  pacific  of  princes.  We  are  afraid  that  his 
aversion  to  war  was  not  the  effect  of  humanity,  but  was 
merely  one  of  his  thousand  whims.  His  feeling  about  his 
troops  seems  to  have  resembled  a  miser's  feelings  about 
his  money.  He  loved  to  collect  them,  to  count  them,  to 
see  them  increase;  but  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart 
to  break  in  upon  the  precious  hoard.  He  looked  forward 
to  some  future  time  when  his  Pntagonian  battaliojis  were 
to  drive  hostile  infantry  before  them  like  shceji :  but  this 
future  time  was  always  receding;  and  it  is  probable  that, 
if  his  life  had  been  prolonged  thirty  years,  his  superb 
army  would  never  have  seen  any  harder  service  than  a 
sham  fight  in  the  fields  near  Berlin.  But  the  great  mili- 
tary means  which  he  had  collected  were  destined  to  be 
employed  by  a  spirit  far  more  daring  and  inventive  than 
his  own. 

Frederic,  snrnamed  the  Great,  son  of  Frederic  William, 
was  horn  in  January,  1712.  It  may  safely  be  j)ronounced 
that  he  had  received  from  nature  a  strong  and  sharj)  un- 
derstanding, arifl  a  rare  finuness  of  temper  and  intensity 
of  will.  As  to  the  other  parts  of  his  character,  it  is 
difficult  to  say  whether  they  are  to  be  ascrilted  to  nature, 
or  to  the  strange  training  which  he  unrlerwent.  The 
history  of  his  boyhood  is  painfully  interesting.  Oliver 
Twist  in  the  parish  workhouse,  Smike  at  Dotheboys  Hall, 
were  petted  children  when  compared  with  this  wretched 
heir  apparent  of  a  crown.  The  nature  of  Frederic  Wil- 
liam was  hard  and  bad.  and  the  habit  of  exercising 
arbitrary  power  had  iTiade  him  frightfully  savage.  His 
rage  constantly  vented  itself  to  right  and  left  in  curses 
and  blows.    When  his  Majesty  took  a  walk,  every  human 


428  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

being  fled  before  him,  as  if  a  tiger  had  broken  loose  from 
a  menagerie.  If  he  met  a  hidy  in  the  street,  he  gave  her 
a  kick,  and  told  her  to  go  home  and  mind  her  brats.  If 
he  saw  a  clergyman  staring  at  the  soldiers,  he  admonished 
the  reverend  gentleman  to  betake  himself  to  study  and 
prayer,  and  enforced  this  pious  advice  by  a  sound  caning 
administered  on  the  spot.  But  it  was  in  his  own  house 
that  he  was  most  unreasonable  and  ferocious.  His  palace 
was  hell,  and  he  the  most  execrable  of  fiends,  a  cross 
between  Moloch  and  Puck.  His  son  Frederic  and  his 
daughter  Wilhelmina,  afterwards  Margravine  of  Bareuth, 
were  in  an  especial  manner  objects  of  his  aversion.  His 
own  mind  was  uncultivated.  He  despised  literature.  He 
hated  infidels,  papists,  and  metaphysicians,  and  did  not 
very  well  understand  in  what  they  differed  from  each 
other.  The  business  of  life,  according  to  him,  was  to  drill 
and  to  be  drilled.  The  recreations  suited  to  a  prince, 
were  to  sit  in  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke,  to  sip  Swedish 
beer  between  the  puffs  of  the  pipe,  to  play  backgammon 
for  three  halfpence  a  rubber,  to  kill  wild  hogs,  and  to  shoot 
partridges  by  the  thousand.  The  Prince  Royal  showed 
little  inclination  either  for  the  serious  employments  or 
for  the  amusements  of  his  father.  He  shirked  the  duties 
of  the  parade :  he  detested  the  fume  of  tobacco :  he  had 
no  taste  either  for  backgammon  or  for  field  sports.  He 
had  an  exquisite  ear,  and  performer!  skilfully  on  the  flute. 
His  earliest  instructors  had  been  French  refugees,  and 
they  had  awakened  in  him  a  strong  passion  for  French 
literature  and  French  society.  Frederic  William  re- 
garded these  tastes  as  effeminate  and  contemptible,  and, 
by  abuse  and  persecution,  made  them  still  stronger. 
Things  became  worse  when  the  Prince  Royal  attained  that 
time  of  life  at  which  the  great  revolution  in  the  human 
mind  and  body  takes  place.  He  was  guilty  of  some  youth- 
ful indiscretions,  which  no  good  and  wise  parent  would 
regard  with  severity.  At  a  later  period  he  was  accused, 
truly  or  falsely,  of  vices  from  which  History  averts  her 
eyes,  and  which  even  Satire  blushes  to  name,  vices  such 
that,  to  borrow  the  energetic  language  of  Lord  Keeper 
Coventry,  "the  depravud  nature  of  man,  which  of  itself 
carrieth  man  to  all  other  sin,  abhorreth  them."  But  the 
offenses  of  his  youth  were  not  characterized  by  any  pe- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  429 

culiar   turpitude.      They   excited,   however,   transports   of 
rage  in  the  King,  who  hated  all  faults  except  those  to 
which  he  was  himself  inclined,  and  who  conceived  that 
he  made  ample  atonement  to  Heaven  for  his  brutality, 
by  holding  the  softer  passions  in  detestation.     The  Prince 
Royal,  too,  was  not  one  of  those  who  are  content  to  take 
their  religion  on  trust.    He  asked  puzzling  questions,  and 
brought   forward    arguments   which   seemed   to    savor   of 
something  different  from  pure  Lutheranism.     The  King 
suspected  that  his  son  was   inclined   to  be  a  heretic  of 
some    sort    or    other,    whether    Calvinist   or    Atheist   his 
Majesty  did  not  very  well  know.     The  ordinary  malignity 
of  Frederic  William  was  bad  enough.     He  now  thought 
malignity  a  part  of  his  duty  as  a  Christian  man,  and  all 
the  conscience  that  he  had  stimulated  his  hatred.     The 
flute  was  broken :  the  French  books  were  sent  out  of  the 
palace;  the  Prince  was  kicked  and  cudgeled,  and  pulled 
by  the  hair.    At  dinner  the. plates  were  hurled  at  his  head : 
sometimes  he  was  restricted   to  bread  and  water:   some- 
times he  was  forced  to  swallow  food  so  nauseous  that  he 
could  not  keep  it  on  his  stomach.   Once  his  father  knocked 
him  down,  dragged  him  along  the  floor  to  a  window,  and 
was  with   difficulty  prevented    from   strangling  him   with 
the  cord  of  the  curtain.     The  Queen,  for  the  crime   of 
not  wishing  to  see  her  son  murdered,  was  subjected  to  the 
grossest  indignities.     The  Princess  Wilhelmina,  who  took 
her   brother's    part,    was    treated    almost    as    ill    as    Mrs. 
Prownrigg's  apprentices.     Driven  to  despair,  the  unhappy 
youth  tried  to  run  away.     Then  the  fury  of  the  old  tyrant 
rose  to  madness.     The  Prince  was  an  officer  in  the  army : 
his  flight  was  therefore  desertion;  and,  in  the  moral  code 
of    Freflcrie    William,    desertion    was    the   highest   of    all 
crimes.     "Desertion,"  says  this  royal   theologian,   in  one 
of  his  half-erazy  letters,  "is  from   hell.     It  is  a  work  of 
the  children   of  the  Devil.     No  child  of  Ciod  could  pos- 
sibly be  guilty  of  it."     An  accomplice  of  the  Prince,  in 
spite    of    the    recommendation    of    a    court    martial,    was 
mercilessly   put   to   death.      It   seemed   probable*   that   the 
Prince  himself  would  suffer  the  same  fate.     It  was  with 
diffieulty  that  the  intercession  of  the  States  of  Holland, 
of  the  Kings  of  Sweden  and  Poland,  and  of  the  Emperor 
of  Germany,  saved  the  House  of  Brandenburg  from  the 


430  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

stain  of  an  unnatural  murder.  After  months  of  cruel 
suspense,  Frederic  learned  that  his  life  would  be  spared. 
He  remained,  however,  long  a  prisoner;  but  he  was  not 
on  that  account  to  be  pitied.  He  foimd  in  his  jailers  a 
tenderness  which  he  had  never  found  in  his  father;  his 
table  was  not  sumptuous,  but  he  had  wholesome  food  in 
sufficient  quantity  to  appease  hunger:  he  could  read  the 
Henriade*  without  being  kicked,  and  could  play  on  his 
flute  without  having  it  broken  over  his  head. 

When  his  confinement  terminated  he  was  a  man.  He 
had  nearly  completed  his  twenty-first  year,  and  could 
scarcely  be  kept  much  longer  under  the  restraints  which 
had  made  his  boyhood  miserable.  Sufi"ering  had  matured 
his  understanding,  while  it  had  hardened  his  heart  and 
soured  his  temper.  He  had  learned  self-command  and 
dissimulation :  he  affected  to  conform  to  some  of  his 
father's  views,  and  submissively  accepted  a  wife,  who  was 
a  wife  only  in  name,  from  his  father's  hand.  He  also 
served  with  credit,  though  without  any  opportunity  of 
acquiring  brilliant  distinction,  under  the  command  of 
Prince  Eugene,  during  a  campaign  marked  by  no  extra- 
ordinary events.  He  was  now  permitted  to  keep  a  sepa- 
rate establishment,  and  was  therefore  able  to  indulge 
with  caution  his  own  tastes.  Partly  in  order  to  conciliate 
the  king,  and  partly,  no  doubt,  from  inclination,  he  gave 
up  a  portion  of  his  time  to  military  and  political  business, 
and  thus  gradually  acquired  such  an  aptitude  for  affairs 
as  his  most  intimate  associates  were  not  aware  that  he 
possessed. 

His  favorite  abode  was  at  Rheinsberg,  near  the  frontier 
which  separates  the  Prussian  dominions  from  the  Duchy 
of  Mecklenburg.  Rheinsberg  is  a  fertile  and  smiling  spot, 
in  the  midst  of  the  sandy  wastes  of  the  Marquisate.  The 
mansion,  surrounded  by  woods  of  oak  and  beech,  looks 
out  upon  a  spacious  lake.  There  Frederic  amused  him- 
self by  laying  out  gardens  in  regular  alleys  and  intricate 
mazes,  by  building  obelisks,  temples,  and  conservatories, 
and  by  collecting  rare  fruits  and  flowers.  His  retirement 
was  enlivened  by  a  few  companions,  among  whom  he  seems 
to  have  preferred  those  who,  by  birth  or  extraction,  were 
French.    With  these  inmates  he  dined  and  supped,  drank 

•  An  epic  poem   by  Voltaire. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  431 

freely,  and  amused  himself  sometimes  with  concerts  and 
sometimes  with  holding  chapters  of  a  fraternity  which  he 
called  the  Order  of  Bayard;  but  literature  was  his  chief 
resource. 

His  education  had  been  entirely  French.  The  long 
ascendency  which  Louis  the  Fourteenth  had  enjoyed, 
and  the  eminent  merit  of  the  tragic  and  comic  dramatists, 
of  the  satirists,  and  of  the  preachers  who  had  flourished 
under  that  magnificent  prince,  had  made  the  French  lan- 
guage predominant  in  Europe.  Even  in  countries  which 
had  a  national  literature,  and  which  could  boast  of  names 
greater  than  those  of  Racine,  or  Moliere,  and  of  Massillon, 
in  the  country  of  Dante,  in  the  country  of  Cervantes,  in 
the  country  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  the  intellectual 
fashions  of  Paris  had  been  to  a  great  extent  adopted. 
Germany  had  not  yet  produced  a  single  masterpiece  of 
poetry  or  elociuence.  In  Germany,  therefore,  the  French 
taste  reigned  without  rival  and  without  limit.  Every 
youth  of  rank  was  taught  to  speak  and  write  French. 
That  he  should  speak  and  write  his  own  tongue  with  po- 
liteness, or  even  with  accuracy  and  facility,  was  regarded 
as  comparatively  an  unimportant  object.  Even  Frederic 
William,  with  all  his  rugged  S:ixf)n  prejudices,  thought  it 
necessary  that  his  children  should  know  French,  and  quite 
unnecessary  that  they  should  be  well  versed  in  German. 
The  Latin  was  positively  interdicted.  "My  son,"  his 
Majesty  wrote,  "shall  not  learn  Latin;  and,  more  than 
that,  I  will  not  suffer  aiiyl)ody  even  to  mejition  such  a 
thing  to  me."  One  of  the  preceptors  ventiired  to  read 
the  Golden  P>ull  in  the  original  with  the  Prince  Royal. 
Frederic  William  entered  tlui  room,  and  broke  out  in  his 
usual   kingly  style. 

"Rascal,  what  are  you  at  there?" 

"Plense,  yonr  Miijesfy,"  iinswerer]  the  preceptor,  "T  was 
explaining  the  Gr.lden    [',ull  to  his   Royal  lligbneKS." 

"I'll  Golden  l>tdl  you,  you  rascal!"  roared  the  Majesty 
of  Prussia.  T'^p  went  the  King's  cane;  away  ran  the  ter- 
rified instructor;  and  Frederie's  classical  studies  ended 
forever.  He  now  and  then  affected  to  quote  Latin  sen- 
tences, and  produced  sueh  exfinisifely  Cieeronian  phrases 
as  these: — "Stante  pede  luorire," — "I)e  gustibus  ikhi  est 
disputandus," — "Tot   vcrbas   tot   spondcra."     Of   Italian, 


432  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

he  had  not  enough  to  read  a  page  of  Metastasio  with  ease; 
and  of  the  Spanish  and  English,  he  did  not,  as  far  as  we 
are  aware,  understand  a  single  word. 

As  the  highest  human  compositions  to  which  he  had  ac- 
cess were  those  of  the  French  writers,  it  is  not  strange 
that  his  admiration  for  those  writers  should  have  been  un- 
bounded. His  ambitious  and  eager  temper  early  prompted 
him  to  imitate  what  he  admired.  The  wish,  perhaps, 
dearest  to  his  heart  was,  that  he  might  rank  among  the 
masters  of  French  rhetoric  and  poetry.  He  wrote  prose 
and  verse  as  indefatigably  as  if  he  had  been  a  starving 
hack  of  Cave  or  Osborn;  but  Nature,  which  had  bestowed 
on  him,  in  a  large  measure,  the  talents  of  a  captain  and 
of  an  administrator,  had  withheld  from  him  those  higher 
and  rarer  gifts,  without  which  industry  labors  in  vain  to 
produce  immortal  eloquence  and  song.  And,  indeed,  had 
he  been  blessed  with  more  imagination,  wit,  and  fertility 
of  thought,  than  he  appears  to  have  had,  he  would  still 
have  been  subject  to  one  great  disadvantage,  which  would, 
in  all  probability,  have  forever  prevented  him  from  taking 
a  high  place  among  men  of  letters.  He  had  not  the  full 
command  of  any  language.  There  was  no  machine  of 
thought  which  he  could  employ  with  perfect  ease,  confi- 
dence, and  freedom.  He  had  German  enough  to  scold  his 
servants,  or  to  give  the  word  of  command  to  his 
grenadiers;  b\it  his  grammar  and  pronunciation  were  ex- 
tremely bad.  He  found  it  difficult  to  make  out  the  mean- 
ing even  of  the  simplest  German  poetry.  On  one  occasion 
a  version  of  Racine's  Iphigenie  was  read  to  him.  He  held 
the  French  original  in  his  hand;  but  he  was  forced  to 
own  that,  even  with  such  help,  he  could  not  understand 
the  translation.  Yet,  though  he  had  neglected  his  mother 
tongue  in  order  to  bestow  all  his  attention  on  French, 
his  French  was,  after  all,  the  French  of  a  foreigner.  It 
was  necessary  for  him  to  have  always  at  his  beck  some 
men  of  letters  from  Paris  to  point  out  the  solecisms  and 
false  rhymes  of  which,  to  the  last,  he  was  frequently 
guilty.  Even  had  he  possessed  the  poetic  faculty,  of 
■which,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  he  was  utterly  destitute, 
the  want  of  a  language  would  have  prevented  him  from 
being  a  great  poet.  No  noble  work  of  imagination,  as 
far  as  we  recollect,  was  ever  composed  by  any  man,  ex- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  433 

cept  in  a  dialect  which  he  had  learned  without  remem- 
bering how  or  when,  and  which  he  had  spoken  with 
perfect  ease  before  he  had  ever  analyzed  its  structure. 
Romans  of  great  abilities  wrote  Greek  verses;  but  how 
many  of  those  verses  have  deserved  to  live?  Many  men 
of  eminent  genius  have,  in  modern  times,  written  Latin 
poems;  but,  as  far  as  we  are  aware,  none  of  those  poems, 
not  even  !Milton's,  can  be  ranked  in  the  first  class  of  art, 
or  even  very  high  in  the  second.  It  is  not  strange,  there- 
fore, that  in  the  French  verses  of  Frederic,  we  can  find 
nothing  beyond  the  reach  of  any  man  of  good  parts  and 
industry,  nothing  above  the  level  of  Newdigate  and 
Seatonian  poetry.  His  best  pieces  may  perhaps  rank  with 
the  worst  in  Dodsley's  collection.  In  history,  he  succeeded 
better.  We  do  not,  indeed,  find,  in  any  part  of  his  volumi- 
nous Memoirs,  either  deep  refiection  or  vivid  painting.  But 
the  narrative  is  distinguished  by  clearness,  conciseness, 
good  .sense,  and  a  certain  air  of  truth  and  simplicity,  which 
is  singularly  graceful  in  a  man  who,  having  done  great 
things,  sits  down  to  relate  them.  On  the  whole,  however, 
none  of  his  writings  are  .so  agreeable  to  us  as  his  Letters, 
particularly  those  which  are  written  with  earnestness,  and 
are  not  embroidered  with  verses. 

It  is  not  strange  that  a  young  lunn  devoted  to  literature. 
and  apquainted  only  with  the  literature  of  France,  should 
have  looked  with  profound  veiu^ration  on  the  genius  of 
Voltaire.  "A  m:in  who  has  nover  seen  the  sim,"  says 
Caldcron.*  in  one  of  his  charming  comedies,  "cannot  be 
bliiined  for  thinking  thnt  no  glory  can  exceed  that  of  the 
moon.  A  niiin  who  lias  seen  neither  moon  nor  sun, 
cannot  be  bbitned  for  talking  of  the  unrivaled  brightness 
of  the  morning  star."  Had  Frederic  been  able  to  read 
TTf»iner  iiiid  ^filton,  or  even  Vergil  and  Tn'^so,  his  admira- 
tion of  the  Ilenriade  would  jirove  that  be  was  utterly 
destitute  of  the  power  of  discerning  what  is  excellent  in 
firt.  Tlfid  lie  been  fiiiniliar  with  Sopbocles  or  Shakespeare, 
we  should  have  exjieeted  him  to  njipre<-iiite  Zaire  +  more 
justly.  Had  he  been  able  to  study  Tbucydides  and  Tacitus 
in  the  original  Greek   and    Latin,   lie   would   have  known 

•  A  SpanlBh  dramatlBt  and  poet  of  uniisunl  popularity,  patronized 
by  FMillIp   IV. 

t  An  opera  by  Bellini,   produced   in    1820. 


434  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

that  there  were  heights  in  the  eloquence  of  history  far 
beyond  the  reach  of  the  author  of  the  Life  of  Charles  the 
Twelftli.  But  the  finest  heroic  poem,  several  of  the  most 
powerful  tragedies,  and  the  most  brilliant  and  picturesque 
historical  work  that  Frederic  had  ever  read,  were  Vol- 
taire's. Such  high  and  various  excellence  moved  the 
young  Prince  almost  to  adoration.  The  opinions  of 
Voltaire  on  religious  and  philosophical  questions  had  not 
yet  been  fully  exhibited  to  the  public.  At  a  later  period, 
when  an  exile  from  his  country,  and  at  open  war  with 
the  Church,  he  spoke  out.  But  when  Frederic  was  at 
Rheinsberg,  Voltaire  was  still  a  courtier;  and,  though 
he  could  not  always  curb  his  petulant  wit,  he  had  as  yet 
published  nothing  that  could  exclude  him  from  Versailles, 
and  little  that  a  divine  of  the  mild  and  generous  school 
of  Grotius  *  and  Tillotson  f  might  not  read  with  pleasure. 
In  the  Henriade,  in  Zaire,  and  in  Alzire,  Christian  piety 
is  exhibited  in  the  most  amiable  form ;  and,  some  years 
after  the  period  of  which  we  are  writing,  a  Pope  conde- 
scended to  accept  the  dedication  of  Mohammed.  The  real 
sentiments  of  the  poet,  however,  might  be  clearly  per- 
ceived by  a  keen  eye  through  the  decent  disguise  with 
which  he  veiled  them,  and  could  not  escape  the  sagacity 
of  Frederic,  who  held  similar  opinions,  and  had  been 
accustomed  to  practise  similar  dissimulation. 

The  Prince  vprote  to  his  idol  in  the  style  of  a  wor- 
shiper; and  Voltaire  replied  with  exquisite  grace  and  ad- 
dress. A  correspondence  followed,  which  may  be  studied 
with  advantage  by  those  who  wish  to  become  proficient  in 
the  ignoble  art  of  flattery.  No  man  ever  paid  compli- 
ments better  than  Voltaire.  His  sweetest  confectionery 
had  always  a  delicate,  yet  stimulating  flavor,  which  was 
delightful  to  palates  wearied  by  the  coarse  preparations 
of  inferior  artists.  It  was  only  from  his  hand  that  so 
much  sugar  could  be  swallowed  without  making  the  swal- 
lower  sick.  Copies  of  verses,  writing  desks,  trinkets  of 
amber,  were  exchanged  between  the  friends.  Frederic 
confided  his  writings  to  Voltaire;  and  Voltaire  applauded, 
as  if  Frederic  had  been  Racine  and  Bossuet  in  one.     One 

•  Grotius,  a  Dutch  jurist,  theologian,  and  statesman,  famous  as 
the   founder   of   the   scienee   of    international    law. 

t  Tillotson  was  an  English  theological  writer,  at  one  time  Arch- 
bishop  of    Canterbury. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  435 

of  his  Royal  Highness's  performances  was  a  refutation  of 
Machiavelli.  Voltaire  undertook  to  convey  it  to  the  press. 
It  was  entitled  the  Anti-Machiavel,  and  was  an  edifying 
homily  against  rapacity,  perfidy,  arbitrary  government, 
unjust  war,  in  short,  against  almost  everything  for  which 
its  author  is  now  remembered  among  men. 

The  old  King  uttered  now  and  then  a  ferocious  growl 
at  the  diversions  of  Rheinsberg.  But  his  health  was 
broken;  his  end  was  approaching;  and  his  vigor  was  im- 
paired. He  had  only  one  pleasure  left,  that  of  seeing  tall 
soldiers.  He  could  always  be  propitiated  by  a  present  of 
a  grenadier  of  six  feet  four  or  six  feet  five;  and  such 
presents  were  from  time  to  time  judiciously  offered  by 
his  son. 

Early  in  the  year  1740.  Frederic  William  met  death 
with  a  firmness  and  dignity  worthy  of  a  better  and  wiser 
man ;  and  Frederic,  who  had  just  completed  his  twenty- 
eitrhth  year,  berrime  King  of  Prussia.  His  character  was 
little  understood.  That  he  had  good  abilities,  indeed,  no 
person  who  had  talked  with  him,  or  corresponded  with 
liim  r>ould  doubt.  Rnt  the  easy  Epicurean  life  which  he 
had  led,  his  love  of  good  fookery  and  good  wine,  of  music, 
of  conversation,  of  light  literature,  led  many  to  regard 
him  as  a  sensual  ami  iutcllcftnal  voluptuary.  His  hal>it 
of  canting  about  nioderiitioii,  peace,  liberty,  and  the  hap- 
piness whir-h  a  good  niiinl  derives  from  the  happiness  of 
others,  hstd  imyiosod  on  some  who  should  have  known 
l)ettor.  Those  who  thought  best  of  liini,  expected  a  Tcle- 
niachus  after  Fcnelon's  *  pattern.  Others  predicted  the  ap- 
proach of  a  McdiccMii  age,  an  age  propitious  to  learning 
and  art,  and  not  uiipn)i)itif)us  to  pleasure.  Nohody  liad 
the  least  suspicion  that  a  tyrant  of  extraordinary  military 
and  political  talents,  of  inrlustry  more  cxtraonlinary  still, 
without  fear,  without  faith,  and  without  mercy,  liad 
ascended  the  throne. 

The  diHapi)ointrnerit  of  FalstafT  at  his  old  boon-com- 
panion's cfironation  was  not  more  bitter  than  that  which 
awaited  some  of  the  inmates  of  Rheinnberg.  The.y  had 
lr>ng  lookcvl  forwanl  to  the  accessifin  of  their  patron,  as 
to  the  event  from  which  their  own  prosperity  and  grcat- 

•  F^n^lon.  thp  author  of  "Les  nvnituros  do  Tf-ICmaquc,"  was  a 
French   prelate   and   orator. 


436  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ness  was  to  date.  They  had  at  last  reached  the  promised 
land,  the  land  which  they  had  figured  to  themselves  as 
flowing  with  milk  and  honey ;  and  they  found  it  a  desert. 
"No  more  of  these  fooleries,"  was  the  short,  sharp  ad- 
monition t?iven  by  Frederic  to  one  of  them.  It  soon 
became  plain  that,  in  the  most  important  points,  the  new 
sovereign  bore  a  strong  family  likeness  to  his  predecessor. 
There  was  indeed  a  wide  difference  between  the  father 
and  the  son  as  respected  extent  and  vigor  of  intellect, 
speculative  opinions,  amusements,  studies,  outward  de- 
meanor. But  the  groundwork  of  the  character  was  the 
same  in  both.  To  both  were  common  the  love  of  order, 
the  love  of  business,  the  military  taste,  the  parsimony, 
the  imperious  spirit,  the  temper  irritable  even  to  ferocity, 
the  pleasure  in  the  pain  and  humiliation  of  others.  But 
these  propensities  had  in  Frederic  William  partaken  of 
the  general  unsoundness  of  his  mind,  and  wore  a  very 
different  aspect  when  found  in  company  with  the  strong 
and  cultivated  understanding  of  his  successor.  Thus,  for 
example,  Frederic  was  as  anxious  as  any  prince  could  be 
about  the  efficiency  of  his  army.  But  this  anxiety  never 
degenerated  into  a  monomania,  like  that  which  led  his 
father  to  pay  fancy  prices  for  giants.  Frederic  was  as 
thrifty  about  money  as  any  prince  or  any  private  man 
ought  to  be.  But  he  did  not  conceive,  like  his  father, 
that  it  was  worth  while  to  eat  unwholesome  cabbages  for 
the  purpose  of  saving  four  or  five  rixdollars  in  the  year. 
Frederic  was,  we  fear,  as  malevolent  as  his  father;  but 
Frederic's  wit  enabled  him  often  to  show  his  malevolence 
in  ways  more  decent  than  those  to  which  his  father  re- 
sorted, and  to  inflict  misery  and  degradation  by  a  taunt 
instead  of  a  blow.  Frederic,  it  is  true,  by  no  means  re- 
linquished his  hereditary  privilege  of  kicking  and  cudgel- 
ing. His  practise,  however,  as  to  that  matter,  differed  in 
some  important  respects  from  his  father's.  To  Frederic 
William,  the  mere  circumstance  that  any  persons  what- 
ever, men,  women,  or  children,  Prussians  or  foreigners, 
were  within  reach  of  his  toes  and  of  his  cane,  appeared  to 
be  a  sufficient  reason  for  proceeding  to  belabor  them. 
Frederic  required  provocation  as  well  as  vicinity;  nor  was 
he  ever  known  to  inflict  this  paternal  species  of  correction 
on   any  but  his  born  subjects;   though   on   one  occasion 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  437 

M.  Thiebault  had  reason,  during  a  few  seconds,  to  antici- 
pate the  high  honor  of  being  an  exception  to  this  general 
rule. 

The  character  of  Frederic  was  still  very  imperfectly  un- 
derstood either  by  his  subjects  or  by  his  neighbors,  when 
events  occurred  which  exhibited  it  in  a  strong  light.  A 
few  months  after  his  accession  died  Charles  the  Sixth, 
Emperor  of  Germany,  the  last  descendant,  in  the  male 
line,  of  the  house  of  Austria. 

Charles  left  no  son,  and  had,  long  before  his  death,  re- 
linquished all  hopes  of  male  issue.  During  the  latter 
part  of  his  life,  his  principal  object  had  been  to  secure 
to  his  descendants  in  the  female  line  the  many  crowns  of 
the  house  of  Ilapsbarg.  With  this  view,  he  had  promul- 
gated a  new  law  of  succession,  widely  celebrated  through- 
out Europe  under  the  name  of  the  Pragmatic  Sanction. 
By  virtue  of  this  law,  his  daughter,  the  Archduchess 
Maria  Theresa,  wife  of  Francis  of  Loraine,  succeeded  to 
the  dominions  of  her  ancestors. 

No  sovereign  has  ever  taken  possession  of  a  throne  by 
a  clearer  title.  All  the  jjolitics  of  the  Austrian  cabinet 
had,  during  twenty  years,  been  directe<l  to  one  single  end, 
the  settlement  of  the  succession.  From  every  person 
whose  rights  could  be  considered  as  injuriously  affected, 
renunciations  in  the  most  solemn  form  had  been  obtained. 
The  new  law  had  been  ratified  by  the  Estates  of  all  the 
kingdoms  and  principalities  wbi<'h  made  up  the  great 
Austrian  monarchy.  Knglaiid,  France,  Spain,  Russia, 
Poland,  Prussia,  Sweden,  Denmark,  the  Germanic  body, 
had  bound  tbciiisclv(>s  by  treaty  to  maintain  the  Prag- 
matic Sanction.  That  instrument  was  placed  under  tlie 
protection  of  the  publi(!  faith  of  the  whole  civilized  world. 
V.VOXI  if  TU)  positive  stijiulations  on  this  subject  had  ex- 
isted, the  arrangement  was  one  which  no  good  man  would 
have  be<Mi  willing  to  disturb.  It  was  a  peaceable  arrange- 
ment. It  was  an  arrangement  acceptable  to  the  great 
population  whose  hap|)iMess  was  chiefly  concerned.  It  wag 
an  arrangement  which  made  no  change  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  power  among  tlu>  states  of  Christr'iidom.  It  wa3 
an  arrangement  which  could  be  set  aside  only  by  means 
of  a  general  war;  and,  if  it  were  Bet  aside,  the  effect 
would  be,  that  the  e<iuilibrium  of  Europe  would  be  de- 


438  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

ranged,  that  the  loyal  and  patriotic  feelings  of  millions 
would  be  cruelly  outraged,  and  that  great  provinces  which 
had  been  united  for  centuries  would  be  torn  from  each 
other  by  main   force. 

The  sovereigns   of  Europe  were,   therefore,   bound   by 
every    obligation    which    those    who    are    intrusted    with 
power    over    their    fellow-creatures    ought    to    hold    most 
sacred,  to  respect   and  defend  the  rights  of  the  Arch- 
duchess.    Her  situation  and  her  personal   qualities  were 
such  as  might  be  expected  to  move  the  mind  of  any  gen- 
erous man  to  pity,  admiration,  and  chivalrous  tenderness. 
She  was  in  her  twenty-fourth  year.    Her  form  was  majes- 
tic,  her   features   beautiful,   her   countenance   sweet   and 
animated,  her  voice  musical,  her  deportment  gracious  and 
dignified.      In    all    domestic    relations    she    was    without 
reproach.    She  was  married  to  a  husband  whom  she  lov(>(l, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  giving  birth  to  a  child,  when 
death  deprived  her  of  her  father.     The  loss  of  a  parent, 
and  the  new  cares  of  empire,  were  too  much  for  her  in  the 
delicate  state  of  her  health.     Her  spirits  were  depressed, 
and  her  cheek  lost  its  bloom.    Yet  it  seemed  that  she  had 
little  cause  for  anxiety.    It  seemed  that  justice,  humanity, 
and  the  faith  of  treaties  would  have  their  due  weight,  and 
that    the    settlement    so    solemnly    guaranteed    would    be 
quietly  carried  into  effect.    England,  Russia,  Poland,  and 
Holland,  declared  in  form  their  intention  to   adhere  to 
their  engagements.     The  French  ministers  made  a  verbal 
declaration  to  the  same  effect.     But  from  no  quarter  did 
the  young  Queen  of  Hungary  receive  stronger  assurances 
of  friendship  and  support  than  from  the  King  of  Prussia. 
Yet  the  King  of  Prussia,  the  Anti-Machiavel,  had  al- 
ready   fully    determined   to    commit   the   great   crime    of 
violating  his  plighted  faith,  of  robbing  the  ally  whom  he 
was  bound  to  defend,  and  of  plunging  all  Europe  into  a 
long,  bloody,  and  desolating  war;  and  all  this  for  no  end 
whatever,  except  that  he  might  extend  his  dominions,  and 
see  his  name  in  the  gazettes.     He  determined  to  assemble 
a  great  army  with  speed  and  secrecy,  to  invade  Silesia 
before  Maria  Theresa  should  be  apprised  of  his  design, 
and  to  add  that  rich  province  to  his  kingdom. 

We  will  not  condescend  to  refute  at  length  the  pleas 
which  the  compiler  of  the  Memoirs  before  us  has  copied 


FREDERIC  TPIE  GREAT  439 

from  Doctor  Preuss.  They  amount  to  this,  that  the  house 
of  Brandenburgr  had  some  ancient  pretensions  to  Silesia, 
and  had  in  the  previous  century  been  compelled,  by  hard 
usage  on  the  part  of  the  Court  of  Vienna,  to  waive  those 
pretensions.  It  is  certain  that,  whoever  might  originally 
have  been  in  the  right,  Prussia  had  submitted.  Prince 
after  prince  of  the  house  of  Brandenburg  had  acquiesced 
in  the  existing  arrangement.  Nay,  the  Court  of  Berlin 
had  recently  been  allied  with  that  of  Vienna,  and  had 
guaranteed  the  integrity  of  the  Austrian  states.  Is  it 
not  perfectly  clear  that,  if  antiquated  claims  are  to  be  set 
up  against  recent  treaties  and  long  possession,  the  world 
can  never  be  at  jjcace  for  a  day  ^  The  laws  of  all  nations 
have  wisely  established  a  time  of  limitation,  after  which 
titles,  however  illegitinuite  in  their  origin,  cannot  be 
questioned.  It  is  felt  l)y  everybody,  that  to  eject  a  person 
from  his  estate  on  the  ground  of  some  injustice  commit- 
ted in  the  time  of  tln>  Tudors  would  prodiu'C  all  tlu>  evils 
which  result  from  arbitrary  contiscation,  and  \v(juld  make 
all  property  insecure.  It  concerns  the  commonwealth — 
so  runs  the  legal  maxim — that  there  be  an  end  of  litiga- 
tion. And  surely  this  maxim  is  at  least  e(iually  api)licable 
to  the  great  commonwealth  of  states;  for  in  that  common- 
wealth litigatioji  means  th<'  devastation  of  i)rovinces,  the 
suspension  of  trade  and  industry,  sieges  like  those  of 
Badajoz  and  St.  Sebastian,  pitched  fields  like  those  of 
Eylau  and  Horodiuo.  We  hold  that  the  transfer  of  N'or- 
way  from  Denmark  to  Sweden  was  an  unjnstiHal)le  ])ro- 
ceeding;  but  would  tlie  l\iug  of  Denmark  be  therefore 
justified  in  lauding,  wifbotit  any  new  provocation,  in 
Norway,  and  r-onuuenciiig  military  operations  there?  The 
king  of  Tlolb'ind  thinks,  no  doubt,  that  he  was  unjustly 
deprived  of  tlie  I'elgian  provinces.  fJraut  that  it  were  so. 
Woidd  be.  tbe.retore,  lie  justified  in  marching  with  an 
army  on  Brussels?  Tin-  case  against  Frederic  was  still 
stronger,  iiiasmm-h  as  the  injustice  of  which  he  com- 
plained had  been  conwnitte(l  more  than  a  century  before. 
Nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  he  owed  tlu!  highest  per- 
sonal obligations  to  the  house  of  Austria.  It  may  be 
doubted  whether  his  life  ha«l  not  been  preserved  by  the 
intercession  of  the  prince  whose  daughter  he  was  about 
to  plunder. 


440  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

To  do  the  King  justice,  he  pretended  to  no  more  virtue 
than  he  had.  In  manifestos  he  might,  for  form's  sake, 
insert  some  idle  stories  about  his  antiquated  claim  on 
Silesia ;  but  in  his  conversation  and  Memoirs  he  took  a 
very  different  tone.  His  own  words  are:  "Ambition, 
interest,  the  desire  of  making  people  talk  about  me,  car- 
ried the  day ;  and  I  decided  for  war." 

Having  resolved  on  his  course,  he  acted  with  ability 
and  vigor.  It  was  impossible  wholly  to  conceal  his  prepa- 
rations; for  throughout  the  Prussian  territories  .regi- 
ments, guns,  and  baggage  were  in  motion.  The  Austrian 
envoy  at  Berlin  apprized  his  court  of  these  facts,  and 
expressed  a  suspicion  of  Frederic's  designs;  but  the  min- 
isters of  Maria  Theresa  refused  to  give  credit  to  so  black 
an  imputation  on  a  young  prince  who  was  known  chiefly 
by  his  high  professions  of  integrity  and  philanthropy. 
"We  will  not,"  they  wrote,  "we  cannot,  believe  it." 

In  the  mean  time  the  Prussian  forces  had  been  assem- 
bled. Without  any  declaration  of  war,  without  any  de- 
mands for  reparation,  in  the  very  act  of  pouring  forth 
compliments  and  assurances  of  good  will,  Frederic  com- 
menced hostilities.  Many  thousands  of  his  troops  were 
actually  in  Silesia  before  the  Queen  of  Hungary  knew 
that  he  had  set  up  any  claim  to  any  part  of  her  territories. 
At  length  he  sent  her  a  message  which  could  be  regarded 
only  as  an  insult.  If  she  would  but  let  him  have  Silesia, 
he  would,  he  said,  stand  by  her  against  any  power  which 
should  try  to  deprive  her  of  her  other  dominions;  as  if 
he  was  not  already  bound  to  stand  l)y  her,  or  as  if  his 
new  promise  could  be  of  more  value  than  the  old  one. 

It  was  the  depth  of  wiiit(>r.  The  cold  was  severe,  and 
the  roads  heavy  with  mire.  Eut  the  Prussians  pressed  on. 
Resistance  was  impossible.  The  Austrian  army  was  then 
neither  numerous  nor  efficicnit.  The  small  portion  of 
that  army  which  lay  in  Silesia  was  unprepared  for  hos- 
tilities. Glogau  was  blockaded;  Ereslau  opened  its  gates; 
Ohlau  was  evacuated.  A  few  scattered  garrisons  still  held 
out;  but  the  whole  open  coimtry  was  subjugated:  no 
enemy  ventured  to  encounter  the  King  in  the  field;  and, 
before  the  end  of  January,  1741,  he  returned  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  his  subjects  at  Berlin. 

Had  the  Silesian  question  been  merely  a  question  be- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  441 

tween  Frederic  and  Maria  Theresa,  it  would  be  impossible 
to  acquit  the  Prussian  Kinp:  of  gross  perfidy.     But  when 
we  consider  the  effects  which  his  policy  produced,   and 
could  not  fail   to   produce,   on   the  whole  community   of 
civilized  nations,  we  are  compelled  to  pronounce  a  con- 
demnation still  more  severe.     Till  he  began  the  war,  it 
seemed    possible,    even    probable,    that    the   peace   of   the 
world    would   be   preserved.      The   plunder   of   the   great 
Austrian  heritage  was  indeed  a  strong  temptation;   and 
in  more  than  one  cabinet  ambitious  schemes  were  already 
meditated.      But    the    treaties    by    which    the   Pragmatic 
Sanction  had  been  giuirantoed  were  express   and   recent. 
To  throw  all  Europe  into  confusion  for  a  purpose  clearly 
unjust,  was  no  light  matter.     England  was  true  to  her 
engagements.     The  voice  of  Fleii.ry  had  always  been  for 
peace.    He  had  a  conscience.    He  was  now  in  extreme  old 
age,    and    was   unwilling,    after   a    life   which,   when   his 
situation  was  considered,  must  be  pronounced  singularly 
pure,  to  carry  the  fresh  stain  of  a  great  crime  before  the 
tribunal   of  his   God.     Even   the  vain   and   unprincipled 
Bclle-Tsle,   whose   whole   life   was   one   wild    day-dream   of 
coiupiest  and   spoliation,  felt  that  France,  bound   as  she 
was  by  solemn  stipulations,  could  not,  without  disgrace, 
make  a  fjircft  attack  on  tlic  ,\ustrian  dominions.     Obarb's, 
Elector  of  liavaria,  prcti'ndcd   that  he  had  a    right  to   a 
large  part  of  the  inheritance  which  the  Pragmatic  Sanc- 
tion   gave   to    the   (^neeii    of   Hungary;    but   he   was    not 
sufficiently  powerful  to  move  without  support.     It  might, 
therefftre,  not  unreasonably  be  expected  that,  after  a  short 
period   of  restlessness,   all   tlie  potentates  of  Christendom 
would   acquiesce   in   the   arrangements   made  by   the   late 
Emperor.     But  the  selfish  rapacity  of  the  King  of  Prussia 
gave   the  signal    to   his   neighbors.      His   example   (piieted 
their  sense  of  shame.     His  s\iccess  led   them  to  underrate; 
the   difficulty   of   disineinl)ering   the    Austrian    monarchy. 
The  whole  world  sjirang  to  arms.     On  the  head  of  Frederic 
is   all    the   blood    wliieli    was   shed    in    a    war   which    raged 
♦luring  many  years  and  in  every  (juarter  of  the  globe,  the 
blof»d  of  tlie  column  of  Fontetioy,  tlie  blood  of  the  moun- 
taineers   who    were   slauglitere<l    at   Culloden.      The   evils 
produced  by  this  wickedness  were  felt  in  lands  where  the 
name  of  Prussia   was   unknown;   and,    in    order   tli.it    lie 


442  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

might  rob  a  neighbor  whom  ho  had  promised  to  defend, 
black  men  fought  on  the  coast  of  Coromandel,  and  red 
men  scalped  each  other  by  the  Great  Lakes  of  North 
America. 

Silesia  had  been  occupied  without  a  battle;  but  the 
Austrian  troops  wore  advancing  to  the  relief  of  the 
fortresses  which  still  hehl  out.  In  the  spring  Frederic 
rejoined  his  army.  He  had  seen  little  of  war,  and  had 
never  conimiinded  any  grivit  body  of  men  in  the  field.  It 
is  not,  therefore,  strange  tbat  his  first  military  operations 
showed  little  of  that  skill  which,  at  a  later  period,  was 
the  admiration  of  Europe.  What  connoisseurs  say  of 
some  pictures  painted  by  Raphael  in  his  youth,  may  be 
said  of  this  campaign.  It  was  in  Frederic's  early  bad 
manner.  Fortunately  for  him,  the  generals  to  whom  he 
was  opposed  were  men  of  small  capacity.  The  discipline 
of  his  own  troops,  particularly  of  the  infantry,  was  un- 
equalled in  that  age;  and  some  able  and  experienced  offi- 
cers were  at  hand  to  assist  him  with  their  advice.  Of 
these,  the  most  distinguished  was  Field-Marshal  Schwerin, 
a  brave  adventurer  of  Pomeranian  extraction,  who  had 
served  half  the  govermneuts  in  Europe,  had  borne  the 
commissions  of  the  States  General  of  Holland  and  of  the 
Duke  of  Mecklenburg,  had  fought  under  Marlborough  at 
Blenheim,  and  had  been  with  Charles  the  Twelfth  at 
Bender. 

Frederic's  first  battle  was  fought  at  Molwitz :  and  never 
did  the  career  of  a  great  commander  open  in  a  more 
inauspicious  manner.  His  army  was  victorious.  Not 
only,  however,  did  he  not  establish  his  title  to  the  charac- 
ter of  an  able  general ;  but  he  was  so  mifortunate  as  to 
make  it  doubtful  whether  he  possessed  the  vulgar  courage 
of  a  soldier.  The  cavalr;\',  which  he  commanded  in  per- 
son, was  put  to  flight.  Unaccustomed  to  the  tumult  and 
carnage  of  a  field  of  battle,  he  lost  his  self-possession, 
and  listened  too  readily  to  those  who  urged  him  to  save 
himself.  His  English  gray  carried  him  many  miles  from 
the  field,  while  Schwerin,  though  wounded  in  two  places, 
manfully  upheld  the  day.  The  skill  of  the  old  Field- 
Marshal  and  the  steadiness  of  the  Prussian  battalions 
prevailed;  and  the  Austrian  army  was  driven  from  the 
field  with  the  loss  of  eight  thousand  men. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  443 

The  news  was  carried  late  at  night  to  a  mill  in  which 
the  King  had  taken  shelter.  It  gave  him  a  bitter  pang. 
He  was  successful ;  but  he  owed  his  success  to  dispositions 
which  others  had  made,  and  to  the  valor  of  men  who  had 
fought  while  he  was  flying.  So  unpromising  was  the  first 
appearance  of  the  greatest  warrior  of  that  age. 

The  battle  of  ^lolwitz  was  the  signal  for  a  general  ex- 
plosion throughout  Europe.  Bavaria  took  up  arms. 
France  not  yet  declaring  herself  a  principal  in  the  war, 
took  part  in  it  is  an  ally  of  Bavaria.  The  two  great 
statesmen  to  whom  mankind  had  owed  many  years  of 
tranquillity,  disappeared  about  this  time  from  the  scene, 
but  not  till  they  had  both  been  guilty  of  the  weakness 
of  sacrificing  their  sense  of  justice  and  their  love  of  peace 
to  the  vain  hope  of  prci^crving  their  power.  Floury,  sink- 
ing under  age  and  intiruiity,  was  borne  down  by  the 
impetuosity  of  Belle-Isle.  Walpole  retired  from  the 
service  of  his  ungrateful  country  to  his  woods  and  paint- 
ings at  Houghton;  and  his  power  devolved  on  the  daring 
and  eccentric  Carteret.  As  were  the  ministers,  so  were 
the  nations.  Tbirty  years  during  which  Euro])o  had.  with 
few  interruptinns,  enjoyed  repose,  had  prepared  the  pul)lic 
mind  for  great  military  efforts.  A  new  generation  had 
grown  up,  which  could  not  remember  the  siege  of  Turin 
or  the  slaughter  of  .Malpbwiuet ;  which  knew  war  by  noth- 
ing l)ut  its  troiibies;  and  wliich,  while  it  looked  with  pride 
on  the  tapestries  at  Blenheim,  or  the  statue  in  the  Place 
of  Victories,  little  thought  by  what  privations,  b.y  what 
waste  of  private  fortunes,  by  how  many  bitter  tears,  con- 
quests must  be  y)urchased. 

For  a  time  fortune  seenH-d  adverse  to  tbe  (Jiieen  of 
Hungary.  Frederic  invaded  Moravia.  The  French  and 
Bavarians  penetrated  into  Bohemia,  atid  were  tbere  joined 
by  the  Saxons.  Prague  was  taken.  The  Elector  of 
Bavarin  was  raised  by  tbe  suffrages  of  liis  colleagues  to 
the  Imperial  throne,  a  tbrone  whic-h  the  practise  of  cen- 
turies had  almost  entitled  the  House  of  Austria  to  regard 
as  a  hereditary  possession. 

Yet  was  the  spirit  of  the  haughty  daughter  of  the 
Csrsars  unbroken.  Huntrary  was  still  hers  by  an  unques- 
tionable title;  and  altbough  ber  ancestors  bad  found 
Hungary  the  most  mutinous  of  all  their  kingdoms,  she 


444  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

resolved  to  trust  herself  to  the  fidelity  of  a  people,  rude 
indeed,  turbulent,  and  impatient  of  oppression,  but  brave, 
generous,  and  simple-hearted.  In  the  midst  of  distress 
and  peril  she  had  given  birth  to  a  son,  afterwards  the 
Emperor  Joseph  the  Second.  Scarcely  had  she  risen  from 
her  couch,  when  she  hastened  to  Prcsburg.  There,  in 
the  sight  of  an  innumerable  multitude,  she  was  crowned 
with  the  crown  and  robed  with  the  robe  of  St.  Stephen. 
No  spectator  could  restrain  his  tears  when  the  beautiful 
young  mother,  still  weak  from  child-bearing,  rode,  after 
the  fashion  of  her  fathers,  up  the  mount  of  Defiance,  un- 
sheathed the  ancient  sword  of  state,  shook  it  toward 
north  and  south,  east  and  west,  and,  with  a  glow  on  her 
pale  face,  challenged  the  four  corners  of  the  world  to  dis- 
pute her  rights  and  those  of  her  boy.  At  the  first  sitting 
of  the  Diet  she  appeared  clad  in  deep  mourning  for  her 
father,  and  in  pathetic  and  dignified  words,  implored  her 
people  to  support  her  just  cause.  Magnates  and  deputies 
sprang  up,  half  drew  their  sabers,  and  with  eager  voices 
vowed  to  stand  by  he.r  with  their  lives  and  fortunes.  Till 
then,  her  firmness  had  never  once  forsaken  her  before 
the  public  eye:  but  at  that  shout  she  sank  down  upon 
her  throne,  and  wept  aloud.  Still  more  touching  was  the 
sight  when,  a  few  days  later,  she  came  again  before  the 
Estates  of  her  realm,  and  held  up  before  them  the  little 
Archduke  in  her  arms.  Then  it  was  that  the  enthusiasm 
of  Hungary  broke  forth  into  that  war-cry  which  soon 
resounded  throughout  Europe,  "Let  us  die  for  our  King, 
Maria  Theresa !" 

In  the  mean  time,  Frederic  was  meditating  a  change  of 
policy.  He  had  no  wish  to  raise  France  to  supreme  power 
on  the  continent,  at  the  expense  of  the  house  of  Hapsburg. 
His  first  object  was  to  rob  the  Queen  of  Hungary.  His 
second  object  was  that,  if  possible,  nobody  should  rob  her 
but  himself.  He  had  entered  into  engagements  with  the 
powers  leagued  against  Austria ;  but  these  engagements 
were  in  his  estimation  of  no  more  force  than  the  guaran- 
tee formerly  given  to  the  Pragmatic  Sanction.  His  plan 
now  was  to  secure  his  share  of  the  plunder  by  betraying 
his  accomplices.  Maria  Theresa  was  little  inclined  to 
listen  to  any  such  compromise;  but  the  English  govern- 
ment represented  to  her  so  strongly  the  necessity  of  buy- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  445 

ing  off  Frederic,  that  she  agreed  to  negotiate.  The  nego- 
tiation would  not,  however,  have  ended  in  a  treaty,  had 
not  the  amis  of  Frederic  been  crowned  with  a  second  vic- 
tory. Prince  Charles  of  Loraine,  brother-in-law  to  Maria 
Theresa,  a  bold  and  active  though  unfortunate  general,^ 
gave  battle  to  the  Prussians  at  Chotusitz,  and  was  de- 
feated. The  king  was  still  only  a  learner  of  the  militaxy 
art.  He  acknowledged,  at  a  later  period,  that  his  success 
on  this  occasion  was  to  be  attributed,  not  at  all  to  his 
own  generalship,  but  solely  to  the  valor  and  steadiness 
of  his  troops.  He  completely  effaced,  however,  by  his 
personal  courage  and  energy,  the  stain  which  Molwitz  had 
left  on  his  reputation. 

A  peace,  concluded  under  the  English  mediation,  was 
the  fruit  of  this  battl(».  ^fa.ria  Theresa  ceded  Silesia: 
Frederic  abandoned  his  allies:  Sa.xony  followed  his  ex- 
ample; and  the  Queen  was  left  at  liberty  to  turn  her 
whole  force  against  France  and  Bavaria.  She  was  every- 
where triumphant.  The  FnMich  were  compelled  to  evacu- 
ate Bohemia  and  with  difficulty  effected  their  escape. 
The  whole  line  of  their  retreat  might  be  tracked  by  the 
corpses  of  thousands  who  had  died  of  cold,  fatigue,  and 
hunger.  Many  of  those  who  reached  their  country  car- 
ried with  them  the  seeds  of  death.  Bavaria  was  overrun 
by  bands  of  ferocious  warriors  from  that  Moody  debatable 
land  which  lies  on  the  frontier  between  Christendom  and 
Islam.  The  terrible  names  of  the  Pandoor,  the  Croat,  and 
the  Hussar,  tben  first  became  familiar  to  western  Europe. 
The  unfortunate  ('harles  of  Bavaria,  vaiuiuished  by 
Austria,  betrayed  by  Prussia,  driven  from  bis  hereditary 
states,  and  neglected  by  his  allies,  was  hurried  by  sliamo 
and  remorse  to  an  untimely  end.  An  i'lnglish  army  aj)- 
peared  in  the  heart  of  Cermany  and  defeated  the  French 
at  Dettingen.  The  Austrian  captains  already  began  to 
talk  of  completing  the  work  of  Marlborough  and  Eugene, 
and  of  comi)elling  France  to  relinfiuish  Alsace  and  the 
three  Bishoi»rics. 

The  Court  of  Versailles,  in  this  jicril,  lof)ked  to  Frederic 
for  help.  He  bad  been  guilty  of  two  great  treasons:  per- 
haps he  might  be  iiubu-ed  to  commit  a  third.  The  Ducbesa 
of  Chateanroux  then  held  the  cliief  influence  over  the 
feeble  Louis.     She  determined  to  send  an  agent  to  Berlin; 


446  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  Voltaire  was  selected  for  the  mission.  lie  caj^erly 
undertook  the  task ;  for,  while  his  literary  fame  filled  all 
Europe,  he  was  troubled  with  a  childish  craving:  for 
political  distinction.  He  was  vain,  and  not  without  rea- 
son, of  his  address,  and  of  his  insinuating?  eloquence;  and 
he  flattered  himself  that  he  possessed  boundless  influence 
over  the  King  of  Prussia.  The  truth  was  that  he  knew, 
as  yet,  only  one  corner  of  Frederic's  character.  He  was 
well  acquainted  with  all  the  petty  vanities  and  affecta- 
tions of  the  poetaster;  but  was  not  aware  that  these  foibles 
were  united  with  all  the  talents  and  vices  which  lead  to 
success  in  active  life,  and  that  the  unlucky  versifier  who 
pestered  him  with  reams  of  middling'  Alexandrines,  was 
the  most  vigilant,  suspicious,  and  severe  of  politicians. 

Voltaire  was  received  with  every  mark  of  respect  and 
friendship,  was  lodged  in  the  palace,  and  had  a  seat  daily 
at  the  royal  table.  The  negotiation  was  of  an  extraor- 
dinary description.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  more 
whimsical  than  the  conferences  which  took  place  between 
the  first  literary  man  and  the  first  practical  man  of  the 
age,  whom  a  strange  weakness  had  induced  to  exchange 
their  parts.  The  great  poet  would  talk  of  nothing  but 
treaties  and  guarantees,  and  the  great  King  of  nothing 
but  metaphors  and  rimes.  On  one  occasion  Voltaire  put 
into  his  Majesty's  hand  a  paper  on  the  state  of  Europe, 
and  received  it  back  with  verses  scrawled  on  the  margin. 
In  secret  they  both  laughed  at  each  other.  Voltaire  did 
not  spare  the  King's  poems;  and  the  King  has  left  on 
record  his  opinion  of  Voltaire's  diplomacy.  "He  had  no 
credentials,"  says  Frederic,  "and  the  whole  mission  was 
a  joke,  a  mere  farce." 

l>ut  what  the  influence  of  Voltaire  could  not  effect,  the 
rapid  progress  of  the  Austrian  arms  effected.  If  it  should 
be  in  the  power  of  Maria  Theresa  and  George  the  Second 
to  dictate  terms  of  peace  to  France,  what  chance  was 
there  that  Prussia  would  long  retain  Silesia?  Frederic's 
conscience  told  him  that  he  had  acted  perfidiously  and 
inhumanly  toward  the  Queen  of  Hungary.  That  her 
resentment  was  strong  she  had  given  ample  proof;  and  of 
her  respect  for  treaties  he  judged  by  his  own.  Guaran- 
tees, he  said,  were  mere  filigree,  pretty  to  look  at,  but  too 
brittle  to  bear  the  slightest  pressure.     He  thought  it  his 


FEEDERIC  THE  GREAT  447 

safest  course  to  ally  himself  closely  to  France,  and  again 
to  attack  the  Empress  Queen.  Aceonlingly,  in  the 
autumn  of  1744,  without  notice,  without  any  decent  pre- 
text, he  recommenced  hostilities,  marched  throu'rh  the 
electorate  of  Saxony  witjiout  troubling  himself  about  the 
permission  of  the  Elector,  invaded  Bohemia,  took  Prague, 
and  even  menaced  Vienna. 

It  was  now  that,  for  the  first  time,  he  experienced  the 
inconstancy  of  fortune.  An  Austrian  army  under  Charles 
of  Loraine  threatened  his  communications  with  Silesia. 
Saxony  was  all  in  arms  behind  him.  lie  found  it  neces- 
sary to  save  himself  by  a  retreat.  He  afterwards  owned 
that  his  failure  was  the  natural  effect  of  his  own  blun- 
ders. No  general,  he  said,  had  ever  committed  greater 
faults.  It  must  be  added,  that  to  the  reverses  of  this 
campaign  he  always  ascribed  his  subsequent  successes. 
It  was  in  the  midst  of  difficulty  and  disgrace  that  he 
caught  the  first  clear  glimpse  of  the  principles  of  the 
military  art. 

The  memorable  year  1745  followed.  The  war  raged  I  y 
sea  and  land,  in  Italy,  in  (icrmany,  and  in  Flanders;  and 
even  England,  aft(>.r  many  years  of  profound  internal 
quiet,  saw,  for  the  last  time,  hostile  armies  set  in  battle 
array  against  eaeh  other.  This  year  is  meinorablo  in  the 
life  of  Fre<]erie,  as  th(>  date  at  wliieh  his  novitiate  in  the 
art  of  war  may  he  aai<l  to  have  terminated.  Tbere  have 
been  great  cafitaiiis  whose  precocious  and  self-taught 
militarj'  skill  res<'niiiled  intuition.  Conde,  Clive,  aiul 
Napoleon  are  examj)les.  Ihit  Frederic  was  not  one  of 
these  brilliant  pf)rtents.  Jlis  jjrofleieiuy  in  military 
science  was  sinijdy  tli(^  i)roficiency  wlii<li  a  man  of  vigor- 
ous faculties  makes  in  any  science  to  which  he  applies 
his  mind  witli  earnestness  and  indnstry.  It  was  at 
iroheTifriedberg  tbat  he  first  i)roved  how  much  lie  bad 
profited  by  his  errors,  and  by  their  consequences.  Jlia 
victory  on  tbat  day  was  chiefly  due  to  his  skilful  disj)o- 
sitions,  and  convinced  Kurojie  that  the  prince  who,  a  few 
years  before,  had  stood  aghast  in  the  rout  of  Molwitz,  had 
attained  \u  the  military  art  a  mastery  equaled  by  none  of 
his  contemporaries,  or  e(iualed  by  Saxe  alone,  Tin^  victory 
of  Ilohrnfriedberg  was  speedily  followed  by  that  of  Sorr. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  anns  of  France  had  been  vie- 


448  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

torious  in  the  Low  Countries.  Frederic  had  no  longer 
reason  to  fear  that  Maria  Theresa  would  be  able  to  give 
law  to  Europe,  and  he  began  to  meditate  a  fourth  breach 
of  his  engagoinents.  The  Court  of  Versailles  was  alarmed 
and  mortified.  A  letter  of  earnest  expostulation,  in  the 
handwriting  of  Lewis,  was  sent  to  Berlin;  but  in  vain. 
In  the  autumn  of  1745,  Frederic  made  peace  with  En- 
gland, and,  before  the  close  of  the  year,  with  Austria  also. 
The  pretensions  of  Charles  of  Bavaria  could  present  no 
obstacle  to  an  accommodation.  That  unhappy  prince  was 
no  more;  and  Francis  of  Loraine,  the  husband  of  Maria 
Theresa,  was  raised,  with  the  general  assent  of  the  Ger- 
manic body,  to  the  Imperial  throne. 

Prussia  was  again  at  peace;  but  the  European  war 
lasted  till,  in  the  year  1748,  it  was  terminated  by  the 
treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapclle.  Of  all  the  powers  that  had 
taken  part  in  it,  the  only  gainer  was  Frederic.  Not  only 
had  he  added  to  his  patrimony  the  fine  province  of  Silesia ; 
he  had,  by  his  unprincipled  dexterity,  succeeded  so  well  in 
alternately  depressing  the  scale  of  Austria  and  that  of 
France,  that  he  was  generally  regarded  as  holding  the 
balance  of  Europe,  a  high  dignity  for  one  who  ranked 
lowest  among  kings,  and  whose  great-grandfather  had 
been  no  more  than  a  Margrave.  By  the  public,  the  King 
of  Prussia  was  considered  as  a  politician  destitute  alike 
of  morality  and  decency,  insatiably  rapacious,  and  shame- 
lessly false;  nor  was  the  pul)]ic  much  in  the  wrong.  He 
was  at  the  same  time  allowed  to  be  a  man  of  parts,  a 
rising  general,  a  shrewd  negotiator  and  administrator. 
Those  qualities  wherein  he  surpassed  all  mankind,  were 
as  yet  unknown  to  otliers  or  to  himself;  for  they  were 
qualities  which  shine  out  only  on  a  dark  ground.  Ilis 
career  had  hitherto,  with  little  interruption,  been  pros- 
perous; and  it  was  only  in  adversity,  in  adversity  which 
seemed  without  hope  or  resource,  in  adversity  which  would 
have  overwh(>lmcd  even  men  celebrated  for  strength  of 
mind,  that  his  real  greatness  could  be  shown. 

He  had,  from  the  commencement  of  his  reign,  applied 
himself  to  public  business  after  a  fashion  unknown  among 
kings.  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  indeed,  had  been  his  own 
prime  minister,  and  had  exercised  a  general  superin- 
tendence  over   all   the   departments   of  the   government; 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  449 

but  this  was  not  sufficient  for  Frederic.  He  was  not  con- 
tent with  being  his  own  prime  minister:  he  would  be  his 
own  sole  minister.  Under  him  there  was  no  room,  not 
merely  for  a  Richelieu  or  a  Mazarin,  but  for  a  Colbert, 
a  Louvois,  or  a  Torcy.  A  love  of  labor  for  its  own  sake, 
a  restless  and  insatiable  longing  to  dictate,  to  intermeddle, 
to  make  his  power  felt,  n  profound  scorn  and  distrust  of 
his  fellow-creatures,  made  him  unwilling  to  ask  counsel, 
to  confide  important  secrets,  to  delegate  ample  powers. 
The  highest  functionaries  under  his  government  were 
mere  clerks,  and  were  not  so  much  trusted  by  him  as 
valuable  clerks  are  often  trusted  by  the  heads  of  depart- 
ments. He  was  his  own  treasurer,  his  own  commander- 
in-chief,  his  own  intendent  of  public  works,  his  own  min- 
ister for  trade  and  justice,  for  home  affairs  and  foreign 
affairs,  his  own  master  of  the  horse,  steward,  and  chamber- 
lain. Matters  of  which  no  chief  of  an  office  in  any  other 
government  would  ever  hear  were,  in  this  singular  mon- 
archy, decided  by  the  King  in  person.  If  a  traveler 
wished  for  a  good  place  to  see  a  review,  he  had  to  write  to 
Frederic,  and  received  next  day,  from  a  royal  messenger, 
Frederic's  answer  signed  l)y  Frederic's  own  hand.  This 
was  an  extravagant,  a  morbid  activity.  The  public  busi- 
ness would  assuredly  have  been  better  done  if  each  de- 
partment had  been  put  under  a  man  of  talents  and 
integrity,  and  if  the  King  had  contented  himself  with  a 
general  control.  In  this  manner  th(>  advantages  which 
belong  to  unity  of  design,  and  the  advantages  which  be- 
long to  the  division  of  labor,  would  have  been  to  a  great 
extent  combined.  I>ut  such  a  system  would  not  havo 
suited  the  peculiar  teniixT  of  Frederic.  lie  could  tolerato 
no  will,  no  reason,  in  tbe  state,  save  his  own.  He  wished 
for  no  abler  assistance  tban  that  of  penmen  who  bad 
just  ijnderstanding  enough  to  translate  and  transcrilie, 
to  make  out  his  scrawls,  and  to  put  his  concise  Yes  ami 
No  into  an  official  fnrin.  Of  thf;  higln'r  intellectual  facul- 
ties, there  is  as  muc-h  in  a  cf»j)ying  macbine,  or  a  litho- 
gray)hie  press,  as  he  required  from  a  secretary  of  the 
caliinet. 

His  own  exertions  were  such  an  were  liardly  to  be  ex- 
pected from  a  human  body  or  a  buuum  mind.  At  Pots- 
dam, his  ordinary  residence,  he  rose  at  three  in  summer 


450  HISTOKICAL  ESSAYS 

and  four  in  winter.  A  page  soon  appeared,  with  a  large 
basket  full  of  all  the  letters  which  had  arrived  for  the 
King  by  the  last  courier,  despatches  from  ambassadors, 
reports  from  oiReers  of  revenue,  plans  of  buildings,  pro- 
posals for  draining  marshes,  comphxints  from  persons  who 
thought  themselves  aggrieved,  applications  from  persons 
who  wanted  titles,  military  commissions,  and  civil  situa- 
tions. He  examined  the  seals  with  a  keen  eye;  for  he 
was  never  for  a  moment  free  from  the  suspicion  that  some 
fraud  might  be  practised  on  him.  Then  he  read  the 
letters,  divided  them  into  several  packets,  and  signified 
his  pleasure,  generally  by  a  mark,  often  by  two  or  three 
words,  now  and  then  by  some  cutting  epigram.  By  eight 
he  had  generally  finished  this  part  of  his  task.  The 
adjutant-general  was  then  in  attendance,  and  received 
instructions  for  the  day  as  to  all  tbe  military  arrange- 
ments of  the  kingdom.  Then  the  King  went  to  review 
his  guards,  not  as  kings  ordinarily  review  their  guards, 
but  with  tlie  minute  attention  and  severity  of  an  old  drill- 
sergeant.  In  the  mean  time  the  four  cabinet  secretaries 
had  been  employed  in  answering  tbe  letters  on  which  the 
King  had  that  morning  signified  his  will.  These  unhappy 
men  were  forced  to  work  all  the  year  round  like  negro 
slaves  in  the  time  of  the  sugar-crop.  They  never  had  a 
holiday.  Tbey  never  knew  what  it  was  to  dine.  It  was 
necessary  that,  before  they  stirred,  they  should  finish  the 
whole  of  their  work.  The  King,  always  on  his  guard 
against  treachery,  took  from  the  heap  a  handful  of  letters 
at  random,  and  looked  into  them  to  see  whether  his  in- 
structions had  been  exactly  followed.  This  was  no  bad 
security  against  foul  play  on  the  part  of  the  secretaries; 
for  if  one  of  them  were  detected  in  a  trick,  he  might  thiuk 
himself  fortunate  if  he  escaped  with  five  years  of  impris- 
onment in  a  dungeon.  Frederic  then  signed  the  replies, 
and  all  were  sent  off  the  same  evening. 

The  general  principles  on  which  this  strange  govern- 
ment was  conducted,  deserve  attention.  The  policy  of 
Frederic  was  essentially  the  same  as  his  father's;  but 
Frederic,  while  he  carried  that  policy  to  lengths  to  which 
his  father  never  thought  of  carrying  it,  cleared  it  at  the 
same  time  from  the  absurdities  with  which  his  father  had 
encumbered   it.     The  King's  first  object   was  to  have  a 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  451 

great,  efficient,  and  well-trained  army.  He  had  a  king- 
dom which  in  extent  and  population  was  hardly  in  the 
second  rank  of  European  powers;  and  yet  he  aspired  to 
a  place  not  inferior  to  that  of  the  sovereigns  of  England, 
France,  and  Austria.  For  that  end  it  was  necessary 
that  Prussia  should  be  all  sting.  Louis  the  Fifteenth 
with  five  times  as  many  subjects  as  Frederic,  and  more 
than  five  times  as  large  a  revenue,  had  not  a  more  for- 
midable army.  The  proportion  which  the  soldiers  in 
Prussia  bore  to  the  people  seems  hardly  credible.  Of  the 
males  in  the  vigor  of  life,  a  seventh  part  were  probably 
under  arms;  ajid  this  great  force  had,  by  drilling,  by 
reviewing,  and  by  the  unsparing  use  of  cane  and  scourge, 
been  taught  to  perform  all  evolutions  with  a  rapidity 
and  a  precision  which  would  have  astonished  Yillars  or 
Eugene.  The  elevated  feelings  which  are  necessary  to 
the  best  kind  of  army  were  then  wanting  to  the  Prussian 
.service.  In  those  ranks  were  not  found  the  religious  and 
political  enthusiasm  whicli  inspired  the  pikemen  of  Crom- 
well, the  patriotic  ardor,  the  devotion  to  a  great  leader, 
which  infliinifd  the  Cld  Cuard  of  Napoleon.  But  in  all 
the  mechanical  parts  of  the  military  calling,  the  Prussians 
were  as  superior  to  the  English  and  French  troops  of  that 
day  as  the  English  and  Krciuli  troops  to  a  rustic  militia. 
Though  the  pay  of  the  I'russian  soldier  was  small, 
tliough  every  rixdollar  of  extraordinary  charge  was 
scrutinized  by  Frederic  with  a  vigilance  and  suspicion 
such  as  ifr.  Joseph  Ilunic  lufver  brought  to  the  examina- 
tion of  an  army  estimate,  the  expense  of  such  an  estab- 
lishnu'Ut  was,  for  the  means  of  the  country,  enormous. 
In  order  that  it  might  not  be  utterly  ruinous,  it  was  neces- 
sary that  every  other  exju-nse  should  be  cut  down  to  the 
lowest  possil)le  point.  Accordingly  Frederic,  tlimigli  his 
dominions  bordered  on  the  sea,  had  no  navy,  lie  neither 
liad  nor  wished  to  have  cfilonies.  His  judges,  his  fiscal 
officers,  were  meanly  paid.  His  ministers  at  ff)reign 
courts  walked  on  foot  f)r  drove  shabby  old  carriages  till 
the  axletrees  gave  way.  Even  to  his  highest  diplonuitic 
agents,  who  resided  at  London  jiiid  Paris,  he  allowed  less 
than  a  thousand  pounds  sterling  a  year.  The  royal  house- 
hold was  managed  with  a  frugality  unusual  in  the  estab- 
lishments of  opulent  subjects,  unexampled    in   jiiiy  other 


452  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

palace.  The  King  loved  good  eating  and  drinking,  and 
during  a  great  part  of  his  life  took  pleasure  in  seeing  his 
table  surrounded  by  guests ;  yet  the  whole  charge  of  his 
kitchen  was  brought  within  the  sum  of  two  thousand 
pounds  sterling  a  year.  He  examined  every  extraordinary 
item  with  a  care  which  might  be  thought  to  suit  the 
mistress  of  a  boarding  house  better  than  a  great  prince. 
When  more  than  four  rixdollars  were  asked  of  him  for  a 
hundred  oysters,  he  stormed  as  if  he  had  heard  that  one 
of  his  generals  had  sold  a  fortress  to  the  Empress  Queen. 
Not  a  bottle  of  Champagne  was  uncorked  without  his 
express  order.  The  game  of  the  royal  parks  and  forests, 
a  serious  head  of  expenditure  in  most  kingdoms,  was  to 
him  a  source  of  profit.  The  whole  was  farmed  out;  and 
though  the  farmers  were  almost  ruined  by  their  contract, 
the  king  would  grant  them  no  remission.  His  wardrobe 
consisted  of  one  fine  gala  dress,  which  lasted  him  all  his 
life;  of  two  or  three  old  coats  fit  for  Monmouth  Street, 
of  yellow  waistcoats  soiled  with  snuflF,  and  of  huge  boots 
embrowned  by  time.  One  taste  alone  sometimes  allured 
him  beyond  the  limits  of  parsimony,  nay,  even  beyond 
the  limits  of  prudence,  the  taste  for  building.  In  all  other 
things  his  economy  was  such  as  we  might  call  by  a  harsher 
name,  if  we  did  not  reflect  that  his  funds  were  drawn 
from  a  heavily  taxed  people,  and  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  without  excessive  tyranny,  to  keep  up  at  once 
a  formidable  army  and  a  splendid  court. 

Considered  as  an  administrator,  Frederic  had  undoubt- 
edly many  titles  to  praise.  Order  was  strictly  maintained 
throughout  his  dominions.  Property  was  secure.  A  great 
liberty  of  speaking  and  writing  was  allowed.  Confident 
in  the  irresistible  strength  derived  from  a  great  army, 
the  King  looked  down  on  malcontents  and  libelers  with 
a  wise  disdain;  and  gave  little  encouragement  to  spies 
and  informers.  When  he  was  told  of  the  disaffection  of 
one  of  his  subjects,  he  merely  asked,  "How  many  thou- 
sand men  can  he  bring  into  the  field  ?"  He  once  saw  a 
crowd  staring  at  something  on  a  wall.  He  rode  up  and 
ifound  that  the  object  of  curiosity  was  a  scurrilous 
placard  against  himself.  The  placard  had  been  posted 
up  80  high  that  it  was  not  easy  to  read  it.  Frederic 
ordered  his  attendants  to  take  it  down  and  put  it  lower. 


FREDEEIC  THE  GREAT  453 

"My  people  and  I,"  he  said,  ''have  come  to  an  agreement 
which  satisfies  us  both.  They  are  to  say  what  they  please, 
and  I  am  to  do  what  I  please."  No  person  would  have 
dared  to  publish  in  London  satires  on  George  the  Second 
approaching  to  the  atrocity  of  those  satires  on  Frederic, 
which  the  booksellers  at  Berlin  sold  with  impunity.  One 
bookseller  sent  to  the  palace  a  copy  of  the  most  stinging 
lampoon  that  perhaps  was  ever  written  in  the  world,  the 
Memoirs  of  Voltaire,  published  by  Beaumarchais,  and 
asked  for  his  majesty's  orders.  "Do  not  advertise  it  in 
an  offensive  manner,"  said  the  King;  "but  sell  it  by  all 
means.  I  hope  it  will  pay  you  well."  Even  among  states- 
men accustomed  to  the  license  of  a  free  press,  such 
steadfastness  of  mind  as  this  is  not  very  common. 

It  is  due  also  to  the  memory  of  Frederic  to  say  that  he 
earnestly  labored  to  secure  to  his  people  the  great  blessing 
of  cheap  and  speedy  justice.  lie  was  one  of  the  first  rulers 
who  abolished  the  cruel  and  absurd  practise  of  torture. 
No  sentence  of  death,  pronounced  by  the  ordinary  tri- 
bunals, was  executed  without  his  sanction;  and  his  sanc- 
tion, except  in  cases  of  murder,  was  rarely  given. 
Toward  his  troops  he  acted  in  a  very  different  manner. 
Military  offenses  were  punished  with  such  barbarous 
scourging  that  to  be  shot  was  considered  by  the  Prussian 
soldiers  as  a  secondary  punishment.  Indeed,  the  prin- 
ciple which  pervaded  Frederic's  whole  policy  was  this, 
that  the  more  severely  the  army,  is  governed,  the  safer  it 
is  to  treat  the  rest  of  the  eoiinuunify  with  lenity. 

Religious  persecution  was  unkiKiwu  under  his  govern- 
ment, unless  some  foolish  and  unjust  restrictions  which 
lay  \ipon  the  Jews  may  be  regarded  as  formiug  an  excep- 
tion. His  policy  with  res|)ect  to  llie  Catliolics  of  Silesia 
presented  an  honorable  <'f)ntrast  to  the  policy  whi<li.  iniiji t 
very  similnr  circumstances,  Eugbiiid  long  followed  with 
respect  to  the  ('atholics  of  Ireland.  Kvery  form  f)f  re- 
ligion and  irreligion  found  an  asylum  iu  bis  states.  The 
scoffer  whom  the  parliaments  of  France  luid  seiileiice<l  to 
a  cruel  death,  was  consoled  by  a  commission  in  the  J'rus- 
sian  service.  The  Jesuit  who  could  show  his  face  no- 
where else,  who  in  Britain  was  still  subject  to  i)eiinl  laws, 
who  was  proscribed  by  France,  Spain,  Portugal,  and 
Naples,  who  had  been  given  up  even  by  the  Vatican,  found 


454  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

safety  and  the  means  of  subsistence  in  the  Prussian  do- 
minions. 

Most  of  the  vices  of  Frederic's  administration  resolve 
themselves  into  one  vice,  the  spirit  of  meddling.  Tlio 
indefatigable  activity  of  his  intellect,  his  dictatorial  tem- 
per, his  military  habits,  all  inclined  him  to  this  great 
fault.  lie  drilled  his  people  as  he  drilled  his  grenadiers. 
Capital  and  industry  were  diverted  from  their  natural 
direction  by  a  crowd  of  preposterous  regulations.  There 
was  a  monopoly  of  coffee,  a  monopoly  of  tobacco,  a 
monopoly  of  retincd  sugar.  The  public  money,  of  which 
the  King  was  generally  so  sparing,  was  lavishly  spent 
in  plowing  bogs,  in  idanting  mulberry  trees  amidst  the 
sand,  in  bringing  sheep  from  Spain  to  improve  the  Saxon 
wool,  in  bestowing  prizes  for  fine  yarn,  in  building  manu- 
factories of  porcelain,  manufactories  of  carpets,  manu- 
factories of  hardware,  manufactories  of  lace.  Neither 
the  experience  of  other  rulers,  nor  his  own,  could  ever 
teach  him  that  something  more  than  an  edict  and  a  grant 
of  public  money  was  required  to  create  a  Lyons,  a  Brussels, 
or  a  Birmingham. 

For  his  commercial  i^olicy,  however,  there  were  some 
excuse.  He  had  on  his  side  illustrious  examples  and 
popular  prejudice.  Grievously  as  he  erred,  he  erred  in 
company  with  his  ago.  In  other  departments  his  meddling 
was  altogether  without  apology.  lie  interfered  with  the 
course  of  justice  as  well  as  with  the  course  of  trade; 
and  set  up  his  own  crude  notions  of  equity  against 
the  law  as  expounded  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the 
gravest  magistrates.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  men 
whose  lives  were  passed  in  adjudicating  on  questions  of 
civil  right  were  more  likely  to  form  correct  opinions  on 
such  questions  than  a  prince  whose  attention  was  divided 
among  a  thousand  objects,  and  who  had  never  read  a  law- 
book through.  The  resistance  opposed  to  him  by  the 
tribunals  inflamed  him  to  fury.  He  reviled  his  Chan- 
cellor. He  kicked  the  shins  of  his  Judges.  He  did  not, 
it  is  true,  intend  to  act  unjustly.  Pie  firmly  believed  that 
he  was  doing  right,  and  defending  the  cause  of  the  poor 
against  the  wealthy.  Yet  this  wejl-meant  meddling  prob- 
ably did  far  more  harm  than  all  the  explosions  of  his  evil 
passions  during  the  whole  of  his  long  reign.     We  could 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  455 

make  shift  to  live  under  a  debauchee  or  a  tyrant ;  but  to 
be  ruled  by  a  busybody  is  more  than  human  nature  can 
bear. 

The  same  passion  for  directing  and  regulating  appeared 
in  every  part  of  the  King's  policy'.  Every  lad  of  a  certain 
station  in  life  was  forced  to  go  to  certain  schools  within 
the  Prussian  dominions.  If  a  young  Prussian  repaired, 
though  but  for  a  few  weeks,  to  Leyden  or  Gottingeu  for 
the  ^purpose  of  study,  the  offense  was  punished  with  civil 
disabilities,  and  sometimes  with  the  confiscation  of  prop- 
erty. Xobody  was  to  travel  without  the  royal  permission. 
If  the  permission  were  granted,  the  pocket-money  of  the 
tourist  was  fixed  by  royal  ordinance.  A  merchant  might 
take  with  him  two  hundred  and  fifty  rixdollars  in  gold, 
a  noble  was  allowed  to  take  four  hundred ;  for  it  may  be 
observed,  in  passing,  that  Frederic  studiously  kept  wp  the 
old  distinction  between  the  nobles  and  the  community. 
In  speculation,  he  was  a  French  philosopher,  but  in  action, 
a  German  prince.  Tie  talked  and  wrote  alioiit  the  priv- 
ileges of  bloftd  in  the  style  of  Sieyes;*  but  in  practise  no 
chapter  in  the  empire  looked  with  a  keener  eye  to  gene- 
alogies and  quarterings. 

Such  was  Frederic  the  Rider.  But  there  was  another 
Frcfleric,  the  Frederic  of  Rheinsberg,  the  fiddler  and 
flute-player,  the  poetaster  and  metaphysician.  Amidst 
the  cares  of  state  the  King  liad  retained  liis  passion  for 
music,  for  reading,  for  writing,  for  literary  society.  To 
these  amnsements  he  devoted  nil  the  time  that  he  could 
snatch  from  tbe  business  of  war  and  government:  and 
perhaps  more  light  is  thrown  on  his  character  by  what 
passed  during  his  hours  of  relaxation,  than  liy  his  battles 
or  his  laws. 

It  was  the  just  boast  of  Schiller  that,  in  his  country,  no 
Augustus,  no  Lorenzo,  harl  watcluHl  over  the  infancy  of 
poetry.  The  rich  and  energetic  language  of  Luther, 
driven  by  the  Latin  from  the  schools  of  pedants,  and  by 
the  French  from  the  palaces  of  kings,  had  taken  refiig(> 
among  the  people.  Of  the  powers  of  that  language  Fred- 
eric had  no   notion.     He   generally   spoke  of  it,   and   of 

•  SIfyos  wns  a  French  Btatpxinan  and  publlclBt,  at  one;  timo  prosl- 
dont  of  th<'  Hfnnto.  vx\U-<]  on  the  restoration  of  the  DourbonH  for  his 
support  of  the  Revolution. 


456  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

those  who  used  it,  with  the  contempt  of  ignorance.  His 
library  consisted  of  French  books :  at  his  table  nothing 
was  heard  but  French  conversation.  The  associates  of 
his  hours  of  relaxation  were,  for  the  most  part,  foreigners. 
Britain  furnished  to  the  royal  circle  two  distinguished 
men,  born  in  the  highest  rank,  and  driven  by  civil  dis- 
sensions from  the  land  to  which,  under  happier  circum- 
stances, their  talents  and  virtues  might  have  been  a  source 
of  strength  and  glory.  George  Keith,  Earl  Marischal  of 
Scotland,  had  taken  arms  for  the  house  of  Stuart  in  1715; 
and  his  younger  brother  James,  then  only  seventeen  years 
old,  had  fought  gallantly  by  his  side.  When  all  was  lost 
they  retired  together  to  the  Continent,  roved  from  country 
to  country,  served  under  various  standards,  and  so  bore 
themselves  as  to  win  the  respect  and  good  will  of  many 
who  had  no  love  for  the  Jacobite  cause.  Their  long  wan- 
derings terminated  at  Potsdam;  nor  had  Frederic  any 
associates  who  deserved  or  obtained  so  large  a  share  of 
his  esteem.  They  were  not  only  accomplished  men,  but 
nobles  and  warriors,  capable  of  serving  him  in  war  and 
diplomacy,  as  well  as  of  amusing  him  at  supper.  Alone 
of  all  his  companions  they  appear  never  to  have  had 
reason  to  comjjlain  of  his  demeanor  toward  them.  Some 
of  those  who  knew  the  palace  best  pronounced  that  the 
Lord  Marischal  was  the  only  human  being  whom  Frederic 
ever  really  loved. 

Italy  sent  to  the  parties  at  Potsdam  the  ingenious  and 
amiable  Algarotti,  and  Pastiani,  the  most  crafty,  cautious, 
and  servile  of  Abbes.  But  the  greater  part  of  the  society 
which  Frederic  had  assembled  round  him,  was  drawn 
from  France.  Maupertuis  had  acquired  some  celebrity  by 
the  journey  which  he  had  made  to  Lapland,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  ascertaining,  by  actual  measurement,  the  shape 
of  our  planet.  He  was  phu-od  in  the  chair  of  the  Academy 
of  Berlin,  a  humble  imitation  of  the  renowned  academy 
of  Paris.  Baculard  D'Arnaud,  a  young  poet,  who  was 
thought  to  have  given  promise  of  great  things,  had  been 
induced  to  quit  his  country,  and  to  reside  at  the  Prussian 
Court.  The  Marquess  D'Argens  was  among  the  King's 
favorite  companions,  on  account,  as  it  should  seem,  of 
the  strong  opposition  between  their  characters.  The  parts 
of  D'Argens    were   good,    and   his   manners   those   of  a 


FEEDEKIC  THE  GREAT  457 

finished  French  gentleman;  but  his  whole  soul  was  dis- 
solved in  sloth,  timidity,  and  self-indulgence.  His  was 
one  of  that  abject  class  of  minds  which  are  superstitious 
without  being  religious.  Hating  Christianity  with  a  .ran- 
cor which  made  him  incapable  of  rational  enquiry,  unable 
to  see  in  the  harmony  and  beauty  of  the  universe  the 
traces  of  divine  power  and  wisdom,  he  was  the  slave  of 
dreams  and  omens,  would  not  sit  down  to  table  with 
thirteen  in  company,  turned  pale  if  the  salt  fell  towards 
him,  begged  his  guests  not  to  cross  their  knives  and  forks 
on  their  plates,  and  would  not  for  the  world  commence  a 
journey  on  Friday.  His  health  was  a  subject  of  constant 
anxiety  to  him.  Whenever  his  head  ached,  or  his  pulse 
beat  quick,  his  dastardly  fears  and  eil'eminate  precautions 
were  the  jest  of  all  I^orlin.  All  this  suited  the  King's 
purpose  admirably.  He  wanted  somebody  by  whom  he 
might  be  amused,  and  whom  he  might  despise.  When  he 
wished  to  pass  half  an  hour  in  easy  polished  conversation, 
D'Argens  was  an  excellent  companion;  when  he  wanted  to 
vent  his  spleen  and  contempt,  D'Argens  was  an  excellent 
butt. 

With  these  associates,  and  others  of  the  same  class, 
Frederic  loved  to  si)f'iid  the  time  which  he  could  steal 
from  pul)lic  cares.  He  wislx^d  his  supper-parties  to  be 
gay  and  easy.  He  invited  his  guests  to  lay  aside  all  re- 
straint, and  to  forget  that  he  was  at  the  head  of  a  hundred 
and  sixty  thoiisanrl  soldiers,  and  was  absolute  master  of 
the  life  and  liberty  of  all  who  sat  at  meat  with  him. 
There  was,  therefore,  at  these  parties  the  outward  show  of 
ease.  The  wit  and  learning  of  the  company  were  osten- 
tatiously displayed.  The  discussions  on  history  and 
literature  were  often  liigldy  interesting.  ]>iit  the  ab- 
surdity of  all  the  religions  known  among  men  was  the 
chief  topic  of  conversation;  and  the  andacity  with  which 
doctrines  and  names  venerated  throiigliout  C'liristendom 
were  treated  on  these  occasions  startled  even  persons 
accustomed  to  the  soeicty  of  Frendi  and  Kiiglish  free- 
thinkers. Ileal  lilierty,  however,  or  real  atTeetion,  was 
in  this  brilliant  society  not  to  be  found.  Absolute  kings 
seldom  have  friends:  and  Frederic's  faults  were  such  as, 
even  where  perfect  efjuality  exi'-t-^,  make  friendslii|)  ex- 
ceedingly   precarious.     He    liad     indeed    many    qualities. 


458  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

■which,  on  a  first  acqiiaintanoe,  were  captivating.  His 
conversation  was  lively;  his  manners,  to  those  whom  he 
desired  to  please,  were  even  caressing.  No  man  could 
flatter  with  more  delicacy.  No  man  succeeded  more  com- 
pletely in  inspiring  those  who  approached  him  with  vague 
hopes  of  some  great  advantage  from  hia  kindness.  But 
under  this  fair  exterior  he  wns  a  tyrant,  suspicioiis,  dis- 
dainful, and  malevolent.  He  had  one  taste  which  may 
be  pardoned  in  a  boy,  but  which,  when  habitually  and 
deliberately  indulged  by  a  man  of  mature  age  and  strong 
imderstanding,  is  almost  invariably  the  sign  of  a  bad 
heart,  a  taste  for  severe  practical  jokes.  If  a  courtier 
was  fond  of  dress,  oil  was  flung  over  his  richest  suit.  If 
he  was  fond  of  money,  some  prank  was  invented  to  make 
him  disburse  more  than  he  could  spare.  If  he  was  hypo- 
chondriacal, he  was  made  to  believe  that  he  had  the 
dropsy.  If  he  had  particularly  set  his  heart  on  visiting  a 
place,  a  letter  was  forged  to  frighten  him  from  going 
thither.  These  things,  it  may  be  said,  are  trifles.  They 
are  so ;  but  they  are  indications,  not  to  be  mistaken,  of 
a  nature  to  which  the  sight  of  human  suffering  and  human 
degradation  is  an  agreeable  excitement. 

Frederic  had  a  keen  eye  for  the  foibles  of  others,  and 
loved  to  communicate  his  discoveries.  He  had  some 
talent  for  sarcasm,  and  considerable  skill  in  detecting  the 
sore  places  where  sarcasm  would  be  most  acutely  felt. 
His  vanity,  as  well  as  his  malignity,  found  gratification 
in  the  vexation  and  confusion  of  those  who  smarted 
under  his  caustic  jests.  Yet  in  truth  his  success  on  these 
occasions  belonged  quite  as  much  to  the  king  as  to  the 
wit.  We  read  that  Connnodus  descended,  sword  in  hand, 
into  the  arena  against  a  wretched  gladiator,  armed  only 
with  a  foil  of  lead,  and,  after  shedding  the  blood  of  the 
heli)less  victim,  struck  mednls  to  commemorate  the  in- 
glorious victory.  The  triumphs  of  Frederic  in  the  war 
of  repartee  were  of  much  the  same  kind.  How  to  deal 
with  him  was  the  most  puzzling  of  questions.  To  appear 
constrained  in  his  presence  was  to  disobey  his  commands, 
and  to  spoil  his  amusement.  Yet  if  his  associates  were 
enticed  by  his  graciousness  to  indulge  in  the  familiarity 
of  a  cordial  intimacy,  he  was  certain  to  make  them  repent 
of  their  presumption  by  some  cruel  humiliation.     To  re- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  459 

seut  his  affronts  was  perilous ;  yet  not  to  resent  them  was 
to  deserve  and  to  invite  them.  In  his  view,  those  who 
mutinied  were  insolent  and  ungrateful;  those  who  sub- 
mitted were  curs  made  to  receive  bones  and  kickings  with 
the  same  fawning  patience.  It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  con- 
ceive how  anything  short  of  the  rage  of  hunger  should 
have  induced  men  to  bear  the  misery  of  being  the  asso- 
ciates of  the  Great  King.  It  was  no  lucrative  post.  His 
Majesty  was  as  severe  and  economical  in  his  friendships 
as  in  the  other  charges  of  his  establishment,  and  as  un- 
likely to  give  a  rixdollar  too  much  for  his  guests  as  for 
his  dinners.  The  sum  which  he  allowed  to  a  poet  or  a 
philosopher  was  the  very  smallest  sum  for  which  such 
poet  or  philosopher  could  be  induced  to  sell  himself  into 
slavery;  and  the  bondsman  might  think  himself  fortunate, 
if  what  had  been  so  grudgingly  given  was  not,  after 
years  of  suffering,  rudely  and  arbitrarily  withdrawn. 

Potsdam  was,  in  truth,  what  it  was  called  by  one  of 
its  most  illustrious  inmates,  the  Palace  of  Alcina.*  At  the 
first  glance  it  seemed  to  be  a  delightful  spot,  where  every 
intellectual  anfl  i)hysical  enjoyment  awaited  the  happy 
adventurer.  Every  new  comer  was  received  with  eager 
hospitality,  intoxi<'ated  witli  flattery,  encouraged  to  expect 
prosperity  and  greatness.  It  was  in  vain  that  a  long  suc- 
cession of  favorites  who  had  entered  that  abode  with 
delight  and  hope,  and  who,  after  a  short  term  of  delusive 
happiness,  had  been  doomed  to  expiate  their  folly  by 
years  of  wretchednr'ss  and  degradation,  raise<l  their  voices 
to  warn  the  asjtiraiit  who  a|iprf)ached  the  clianued  thresh- 
old. Some  had  wisdom  enoiigh  to  discover  the  trutli 
early,  and  sj)irit  enoiigh  to  fly  without  looking  back; 
f)thers  lingered  on  to  a  eheerless  and  iinlionored  old  age. 
We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  poorest  author 
of  that  time  in  I-oinloti.  sleeping  on  a  bunk,  dining  in  a 
celhir.  witli  a  cravat  of  pa|)er,  anil  a  skewer  for  a  shirt-i)in, 
was  a  happier  man  than  any  of  tiic  literary  inmates  of 
Frederie'a  court. 

P>ut  of  all  who  entered  the  enchanted  garden  in  tlie 
inebriation  of  delight,  and  quitted  it    in  agonies  of  rage 

•  A  fairy,  tho  cmbodlnnnf  of  carnal  plcaBurr.  In  ArloKtOH  "Orlando 
Furlnso."  She  transformed  bcr  dlBcardud  lovers  Into  trcea, 
bcaats,   etc. 


460  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

and  shame,  the  most  remarkable  was  Voltaire.  Many 
circumstances  had  made  him  desirous  of  finding  a  home 
at  a  distance  from  his  country.  His  fame  had  raised  him 
up  enemies.  His  sensibility  gave  them  a  formidable  ad- 
vantage over  him.  They  were,  indeed,  contemptible 
assailants.  Of  all  that  they  wrote  against  him,  nothing 
has  survived  except  what  he  has  himself  preserved.  But 
the  constitution  of  his  mind  resembled  the  constitution 
of  those  bodies  in  which  the  slightest  scratch  of  a  bramble, 
or  the  bite  of  a  gnat,  never  fails  to  fester.  Though  his 
reputation  was  rather  raised  than  lowered  by  the  abuse 
of  such  writers  as  Froron  and  Desfontaines,  though  the 
vengeance  which  he  took  on  Freron  and  Desfontaines  was 
such,  that  scourging,  branding,  pillorying,  would  have 
been  a  trifle  to  it,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  they 
gave  him  far  more  pain  than  he  ever  gave  them.  Though 
he  enjoyed  during  his  own  lifetime  the  reputation  of  a 
classic,  though  he  was  extolled  by  his  contemporaries 
above  all  poets,  philosophers  and  historians,  though  his 
works  were  read  with  as  much  delight  and  admiration  at 
Moscow  and  Westminster,  at  Florence  and  Stockholm, 
as  at  Paris  itself,  he  was  yet  tormented  by  that  restless 
jealousy  which  should  seem  to  belong  only  to  minds  burn* 
ing  with  the  desire  of  fame,  and  yet  conscious  of  im- 
potence. To  men  of  letters  who  could  by  no  possibility 
be  his  rivals,  he  was,  if  they  behaved  well  to  him,  not 
merely  just,  not  merely  courteous,  but  often  a  hearty 
friend  and  munificent  benefactor.  But  to  every  writer 
who  rose  to  a  celebrity  approaching  his  own,  he  became 
either  a  disguised  or  an  avowed  enemy.  He  slyly  depreci- 
atecl  Montesquieu  and  BufFon.  He  publicly,  and  with 
violent  outrage,  made  war  on  Rousseau.  Nor  had  he  the 
art  of  hiding  his  fe<'lings  under  the  semblance  of  good 
humor  or  of  contempt.  With  all  his  great  talents,  and 
all  his  long  exi)crience  of  the  world,  he  had  no  more  self- 
f'ommand  than  a  petted  child  or  a  hysterical  woman. 
Whenever  he  was  mortified,  he  exhausted  the  whole 
rhetoric  of  anger  and  sorrow  to  express  his  mortification. 
His  torrents  of  bitter  words,  his  stamping  and  cursing, 
his  grimaces  and  his  tears  of  rage,  were  a  rich  feast  to 
those  abject  natures,  whose  delight  is  in  the  agonies  of 
powerful  spirits  and  in  the  abasement  of  immortal  names. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  461 

These  creatures  had  now  found  out  a  way  of  galling  him 
to  the  very  quick.  In  one  walk,  at  least,  it  had  been 
admitted  by  envy  itself  that  he  was  without  a  living  com- 
petitor. Since  Racine  had  been  laid  among  the  great 
men  whose  dust  made  the  holy  precinct  of  Port  Royal 
holier,  no  tragic  poet  had  appeared  who  could  contest  the 
palm  with  the  author  of  Zaire,  of  Alzire,  and  of  Merope. 
At  length  a  rival  was  announced.  Old  Crebillon,  who, 
nxany  years  before,  had  obtained  some  theatrical  success, 
and  who  had  long  been  forgotten,  came  forth  from  his 
garret  in  one  of  the  meanest  lanes  near  the  Rue  St.  An- 
toine,  and  was  welcomed  by  the  acclamations  of  envious 
men  of  letters,  and  of  a  capricious  populace.  A  thing 
called  Catiline,  which  he  had  written  in  his  retirement, 
was  acted  with  boundless  applause.  Of  this  execrable 
piece  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  the  plot  turns  on  a  love 
affair,  carriefl  on  in  all  the  forms  of  Scudery,  between 
Catiline,  whose  confidant  is  the  Pnetor  Lentulus,  and 
Tullia,  the  daughter  of  Cicero.  The  theater  resounded 
with  acclamations.  The  king  pensioned  the  successful 
poet;  and  the  cotTtv-liouses  pronounced  that  Voltaire  was 
a  clever  man,  but  tliat  the  real  tragic  inspiration,  the 
celestial  fire  which  luul  glowed  in  Corneille  and  Racine, 
was  to  be  found  in  Cn'-biljon  alone. 

The  blow  went  to  Voltii ire's  heart.  ITad  his  wisdom 
and  fortitude  been  in  projxirtion  to  the  fertility  of  his 
intellect,  and  to  the  brilliancy  of  his  wit,  he  would  have 
seen  that  it  was  out  of  the  power  of  all  the  puffers  and 
detractors  in  Europe  to  put  Catiliiu;  above  Zaire;  but 
he  had  none  of  tli(!  iimgiiauimous  patience  with  which 
Milton  and  Bentley  left  their  claims  to  the  unerring 
judgment  of  time.  He  eagerly  engaged  in  an  undigni- 
fied competition  with  Crebillon,  and  i»rf)duced  a  series  of 
nlays  on  the  same  subjects  which  his  rival  had  treated. 
These  pieces  were  coolly  rer-eived.  Angry  with  tlie  court, 
angry  with  the  capital,  Voltaire  began  to  find  picasnn? 
in  the  prospect  of  exile.  IIIh  atfaclinicut  for  Madatne  du 
Chateh^t  long  preventeil  liiin  from  executing  liis  |)urj)ose. 
Her  death  set  him  at  liberty;  and  be  determined  to 
take  refuge  at  P.erlin. 

To  I'erlin  he  was  invited  by  a  series  of  letters  couched 
in  terms  of  the  most  enthusiastic  friendship  and  admira- 


462  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

tion.     For  once  the  rigid  parsimony  of  Frederic  seemed 
to  have  relaxed.     Orders,  honorable  offices,  a  liberal  pen- 
sion, a  well-served  table,  stately  apartments  under  a  royal 
roof,  were  offered  in  return  for  the  pleasure  and  honor 
which  were  expected  from  the  society  of  the  first  wit  of 
the  age.     A  thousand  louis  were  remitted  for  the  charges 
of  the  journey.     No  ambassador  setting  out  from  Berlin 
for  a  court  of  the  first  rank,  had  ever  been  more  amply 
supplied.     But   Voltaire   was   not   satisfied.      At   a   later 
period,  when  he  possessed  an  ample  fortune,  he  was  one 
of  the  most  liberal  of  men ;  but  till  his  means  had  become 
equal  to  his  wishes,  his  greediness  for  lucre  was  unre- 
strained   either   by   justice   or   by    shame.      He   had    the 
effrontery  to  ask  for  a  thousand  louis  more,  in  order  to 
enable  him  to  bring  his  niece,  Madame  Denis,  the  ugliest 
of  coquettes,  in  his  company.     The  indelicate  rapacity  of 
the  poet  produced   its  natural   effect   on   the  severe  and 
frugal   King.     The   answer   was   a   dry   refusal.      "I   did 
not,"   said  his  Majesty,  "solicit  the  honor  of  the  lady's 
society."     On  this,  Voltaire  went  off  into  a  paroxysm  of 
childish  rage.     "Was  there  ever  such  avarice?     He  has 
hundreds  of  tubs  full  of  dollars  in  his  vaults,  and  haggles 
with  me  about  a  poor  thousand  louis."     It  seemed  that 
the  negotiation  would  be  broken  off;  but  Frederic,  with 
great  dexterity,  affected  indifference,  and  seemed  inclined 
to    transfer    his    idolatry    to    Baculard    d'Arnaud.     His 
Majesty  even  wrote  some  bad  verses,  of  which  the  sense 
was,  that  Voltaire  was  a  setting  sun,  and  that  Arnaud 
was  rising.     Good-natured  friends  soon  carried  the  lines 
to  Voltaire.     He  was  in  his  bed.     He  jumped  out  in  his 
shirt,  danced  about  the  room  with  rage,  and  sent  for  his 
passport  and  his  post-horses.     It  was  not  difficult  to  fore- 
see the  end  of  a  connection  which  had  such  a  beginning. 

It  was  in  the  year  1750  that  Voltaire  left  the  great 
capital,  which  he  was  not  to  see  again  till,  after  the  lapse 
of  near  thirty  years,  he  returned,  bowed  down  by  extreme 
old  age,  to  die  in  the  midst  of  a  splendid  and  ghastly 
triumph.  His  reception  in  Prussia  was  such  as  might 
well  have  elated  a  less  vain  and  excitable  mind.  He  wrote 
to  his  friends  at  Paris,  that  the  kindness  and  the  attention 
with  which  he  had  been  welcomed  surpassed  description, 
that  the  King  was  the  most  amiable  of  men,  that  Potsdam 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  463 

was  the  paradise  of  philosophers.  He  was  created  cham- 
berlain, and  received,  together  with  his  gold  key,  the 
cross  of  an  order,  and  a  patent  ensuring  to  him  a  pension 
of  eight  hundred  pounds  sterling  a  year  for  life.  A  hun- 
dred and  sixty  pounds  a  year  were  promised  to  his  niece 
if  she  survived  him.  The  royal  cooks  and  coachmen  were 
put  at  his  disposal.  He  was  lodged  in  the  same  apart- 
ments in  which  Saxe  had  lived,  when,  at  the  height  of 
pow&r  and  glory,  he  visited  Prussia.  Frederic,  indeed, 
stooped  for  a  time  even  to  use  the  language  of  adulation. 
He  pressed  to  his  lips  the  meager  hand  of  the  little  grin- 
ning skeleton,  whom  he  regarded  as  the  dispenser  of 
immortal  renown.  He  would  add,  he  said,  to  the  titles 
which  he  owed  to  his  ancestors  and  his  sword,  another 
title,  derived  from  his  last  and  proudest  acquisition.  His 
style  should  run  thus : — Frederic,  King  of  Prussia, 
Margrave  of  Brandonburg,  Sovereign  Duke  of  Silesia, 
Possessor  of  Voltaire.  But  even  midst  the  delights  of  the 
honeymoon,  Voltaire's  sensitive  vanity  began  to  take 
alarm.  A  few  days  after  his  arrival,  he  could  not  help 
telling  his  niece  that  the  amiable  King  had  a  trick  of 
giving  a  sly  scratch  with  one  hand,  while  patting  and 
stroking  with  the  other.  Soon  came  hints,  not  the  less 
alarming  beoause  mysterious.  "The  supper  parties  are 
delicious.  The  King  is  the  life  of  the  company.  But — 
I  have  operas  and  coiucdies,  reviews  and  concerts,  my 
studies  and  books.  But — but — Berlin  is  fine,  the  prin- 
cesses   are    charming,    the    maids    of    honor    handsome. 

But" 

This  eccentric  friendship  was  fast  cooling.  Never  had 
there  mot  two  persons  so  exquisitely  fitted  to  plagne  each 
other.  Each  of  them  had  exactly  the  fault  of  which  the 
other  was  most  impatient;  and  they  were,  in  different 
ways,  the  most  impatient  of  mankind.  Frederic  was 
frugal,  almost  niggardly.  When  he  had  secured  his  play- 
thing, he  began  to  think  that  he  had  l)oiight  it  too  dear. 
Voltaire,  on  the  other  hand,  was  greedy,  even  to  the 
extent  of  impudence  and  knavery;  ajid  conceived  that  the 
favorite  of  a  monarch  who  had  barrels  full  of  gold  and 
silver  laid  up  in  cellars  ought  to  make  a  fortune  which 
a  receiver-general  might  envy.  They  soon  discovered  each 
other's  feelings.     Both  were  angry;  and  a  war  began,  in 


4G4  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

which  Frederic  stooped  to  the  part  of  Harpagon*  and 
Voltaire  to  that  of  Soapin.f  It  is  humiliating  to  relate, 
that  the  great  warrior  and  statesman  gave  orders  that  his 
guest's  allowance  of  sugar  and  chocolate  should  be  cur- 
tailed. It  is,  if  possible,  a  still  more  humiliating  fact, 
that  Voltaire  indemnified  himself  by  pocketing  the  wax- 
candles  in  the  royal  antechamber.  Disputes  about  money, 
however,  were  not  the  most  serious  disputes  of  these 
extraordinary  associates.  The  sarcasms  of  the  King  soon 
galled  the  sensitive  temper  of  the  poet.  D'Arnaud  and 
D'Argcns,  Guichard  and  La  Metric,  might,  for  the  sake 
of  a  morsel  of  bread,  be  willing  to  bear  the  insolence  of 
a  master;  but  Voltaire  was  of  another  order.  He  knew 
that  he  was  a  potentate  as  well  as  Frederic,  that  his 
European  reputation,  and  his  incomparable  power  of 
covering  whatever  he  hated  with  ridicule,  made  him  an 
object  of  dread  even  to  the  leaders  of  armies  and  the  rulers 
of  nations.  In  truth,  of  all  the  intellectual  weapons  which 
have  ever  been  wielded  by  man,  the  most  terrible  was 
the  mockery  of  Voltaire.  Bigots  and  tyrants,  who  had 
never  been  moved  by  the  wailing  and  cursing  of  millions, 
turned  pale  at  his  name.  Principles  unassailable  by  rea- 
son, principles  which  had  withstood  the  fiercest  attacks 
of  power,  the  most  valuable  truths,  the  most  generous 
sentiments,  the  noblest  and  most  graceful  images,  the 
purest  reputations,  the  most  august  institutions,  began 
to  look  mean  and  loathsome  as  soon  as  that  withering 
smile  was  turned  upon  them.  To  every  opponent,  how- 
ever strong  in  his  cause  and  his  talents,  in  his  station 
and  his  character,  who  ventured  to  encounter  the  great 
scoffer,  might  be  addressed  the  caution  which  was  given 
of  old  to  the  Archangel : — 

"I  forewarn  thco,  slum 
Ilis  deadly  arrow;   neitlier  vainly  liope 
To  be  invulnerable  in  those  bright  arms. 
Though    temper'd   heavenly:    for   that   fatal   dint, 
Save  Him  who  reigns  above,  none  can  resist." 

We  cannot  pause  to  recount  how  often  that  rare  talent 
was  exercised  against  rivals  worthy  of  esteem;  how  often 

•  A   miserly   charartcr    in    Moli&rc's   cometly    "L'Avare." 
t  A  wily  valet  In  MoliSre's  "Les  fourberies  de  Scapln." 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  465 

it  was  used  to  crush  and  torture  enemies  worthy  only  of 
silent  disdain ;  how  often  it  was  perverted  to  the  more 
noxious  purpose  of  destroying  the  last  solace  of  earthly 
misery,  and  the  last  restraint  on  earthly  power.  Neither 
can  we  pause  to  tell  how  often  it  was  used  to  vindicate 
justice,  humanity,  and  toleration,  the  principles  of  sound 
philosophy,  the  principles  of  free  government.  This  is 
not  the  place  for  a  full  character  of  Voltaire. 

Causes  of  quarrel  multiplied  fast.  Voltaire,  who,  partly 
from  love  of  money,  and  partly  from  love  of  excitement, 
was  always  fond  of  stockjobhing,  became  implicated  in 
transactions  of  at  least  a  dubious  character.  The  King 
was  delighted  at  having  such  an  opportunity  to  humble 
his  guest;  and  bitter  reproaches  and  complaints  were 
exchanged.  Voltaire,  too,  was  soon  at  war  with  the  other 
men  of  letters  who  surrounded  the  King;  and  this  irri- 
tated Frederic,  who,  however,  had  himself  chiefly  to 
blame:  for,  from  that  love  of  tormenting  which  was  in 
him  a  ruling  passion,  he  perpetually  lavished  extravagant 
praises  on  small  men  and  bad  books,  merely  in  order 
that  he  might  enjoy  the  mortification  and  rage  which  on 
such  occasions  Voltaire  took  no  pains  to  conceal.  His 
majesty,  however,  soon  had  reason  to  regret  the  pains 
which  he  had  taken  to  kindle  jealousy  among  the  mem- 
bers of  his  housebold.  Tlic  whole  palace  was  in  a  ferment 
with  literary  intrigues  and  cabals.  It  was  to  no  purpose 
that  the  imperial  voice,  which  kept  a  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  soldiers  in  order,  was  raised  to  quiet  the  con- 
tention of  the  exasperatefl  wits.  It  was  far  easier  to 
stir  up  sueh  a  storm  tliaii  to  lull  it.  Nor  was  Frederic, 
in  his  capacity  of  wit,  by  any  means  without  his  own 
share  of  vexations.  He  liad  sent  a  large  quantity  of 
verses  to  Voltaire,  and  recpiested  tliat  they  might  be 
returned,  witb  remarks  and  corrections.  "See,"  ex- 
claimed Voltaire,  "what  a  rpiantity  of  his  dirty  linen 
the  King  has  sent  me  to  wash!"  Talebearers  were  not 
wanting  to  carry  the  sarcasm  to  the  royal  ear;  and  Fred- 
eric was  as  much  incensed  as  a  Cirub  Street  writer  who 
had  found  his  name  in  tbe  Dunciad. 

This  could  not  last.  A  circumstance  wbicli,  when  the 
mutual  regard  of  the  friends  was  in  its  first  glow,  would 
merely  hare  been  matter  for  laughter,  produced  a  violent 


466  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

explosion.  Maupertuis  enjoyed  as  much  of  Frederic's 
good  will  as  any  man  of  letters.  He  was  President  of 
the  Academy  of  Berlin;  and  he  stood  second  to  Voltaire, 
though  at  an  immense  distance,  in  the  literary  society 
which  had  been  assembled  at  the  Prussian  court.  Fred- 
eric had,  by  playing  for  his  own  amusement  on  the 
feelings  of  the  two  jealous  and  vainglorious  Frenchmen, 
succeeded  in  producing  a  bitter  enmity  between  them. 
Voltaire  resolved  to  set  his  mark,  a  mark  never  to  be 
effaced,  on  the  forehead  of  Maupertuis,  and  wrote  the 
exquisitely  ludicrous  Diatribe  of  Doctor  Akakia.  He 
showed  this  little  piece  to  Frederic,  who  had  too  much 
taste  and  too  much  malice  not  to  relish  such  delicious 
pleasantry.  In  truth,  even  at  this  time  of  day,  it  is  not 
easy  for  any  person  who  has  the  least  perception  of  the 
ridiculous  to  read  the  jokes  on  the  Latin  city,  the  Pata- 
gonians,  and  the  hole  to  the  center  of  the  earth,  without 
laughing  till  he  cries.  But  though  Frederic  was  diverted 
by  this  charming  pasquinade,  he  was  unwilling  that  it 
should  get  abroad.  His  self-love  was  interested.  He  had 
selected  Maupertuis  to  fill  the  chair  of  his  Academy.  If 
all  Europe  were  taught  to  laugh  at  Maupertuis,  would  not 
the  reputation  of  the  Academy,  would  not  even  the  dignity 
of  its  royal  patron,  be  in  some  degree  compromised?  The 
King,  therefore,  begged  Voltaire  to  suppress  this  perform- 
ance. Voltaire  promised  to  do  so,  and  broke  his  word. 
The  Diatribe  was  published,  and  received  with  shouts  of 
merriment  and  applause  by  all  who  could  read  the  French 
language.  The  King  stormed.  Voltaire,  with  his  usual 
disregard  of  truth,  asserted  his  innocence,  and  made  up 
some  lie  about  a  printer  or  an  amanuensis.  The  King 
was  not  to  be  so  imposed  \ipon.  He  ordered  the  pamphlet 
to  be  burned  by  the  common  hangman,  and  insisted  upon 
having  an  apology  from  Voltaire,  couched  in  the  most 
abject  terms.  Voltaire  sent  back  to  the  King  his  cross, 
his  key,  and  the  patent  of  his  pension.  After  this  burst 
of  rage,  the  strange  pair  began  to  be  ashamed  of  their  vio- 
lence, and  went  through  the  forms  of  reconciliation.  But 
the  breach  was  irreparable;  and  Voltaire  took  his  leave 
of  Frederic  for  ever.  They  parted  with  cold  civility;  but 
their  hearts  were  big  with  resentment.  Voltaire  had  in 
his  keeping  a  volume  of  the  king's  poetry,  and  forgot  to 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  467 

return  it.  This  was,  we  believe,  merely  one  of  the  over- 
sights which  men  settings  out  upon  a  journey  often  com- 
mit. That  Voltaire  could  have  meditated  plagiarism  is 
quite  incredible.  He  would  not,  we  are  confident,  for  the 
half  of  Frederic's  kingdom,  have  consented  to  father 
Frederic's  verses.  The  King,  however,  who  rated  his  own 
writings  much  above  their  value,  and  who  was  inclined  to 
see  all  Voltaire's  actions  in  the  worst  light,  was  enraged 
to  think  that  his  favorite  compositions  were  in  the  hands 
of  an  enemy,  as  thievish  as  a  daw  and  as  mischievous  as 
a  monkey.  In  the  anger  excited  by  this  thought,  h-^  lost 
sight  of  reason  and  decency,  and  determined  on  com- 
mitting an  outrage  at  once  odious  and  ridiculous. 

Voltaire  had  reached  Frankfort.  His  niece,  Madame 
Denis,  came  tliithcr  to  meet  him.  He  conceived  himself 
secure  from  the  power  of  his  late  master,  when  he  was 
arrested  by  the  order  of  the  Prussian  resident.  The 
precious  volume  was  delivered  up.  But  the  Prussian 
agents  had,  no  doubt,  been  instructed  not  to  let  Voltaire 
escape  without  some  gross  indignity.  He  was  cojifined 
twelve  days  in  a  wretched  hovel.  Sentinels  with  fixed 
bayonets  kept  guard  over  liiiu.  His  niece  was  dragged 
through  the  mire  l)y  the  soldiers.  Sixteen  hundred  dol- 
lars were  extorted  from  him  by  bis  insolent  jailers.  It 
is  absurd  to  say  that  this  outrage  is  not  to  be  attributed 
to  tlie  King.  Was  anybody  i)unished  for  it?  Was  any- 
body <-iiIlc(l  ill  <iii('stioii  for  it?  Was  it  not  consistent  with 
Frederic's  character?  Was  it  not  of  a  piece  with  his 
conduct  on  other  siiiiiliir  oeeasions?  Is  it  not  notorious 
that  he  rejicMfedly  gave  jirivate  directions  to  bis  officers 
to  jiillage  Mild  demolish  tlie  bouses  of  jiersons  against 
whom  he  liad  a  grudge,  eluirgiiig  tbeiii  iit  llie  snine  time 
to  take  their  measiires  in  sueb  a  way  ibat  bis  name  might 
not  be  compromised^  lie  Imd  acted  thus  toward  (/ount 
Prnbl  in  tlie  Seven  Venrs'  War.  Why  slioiild  we  believe 
that  be  would  have  been  more  seriipiiloiis  with  regard 
to  Voltaire? 

When  at  length  the  illustrious  prisoner  regained  his 
liberty,  the  prospect  before  him  was  but  dreary.  He  was 
an  exile  both  from  the  country  of  his  birth,  and  from  the 
country  of  bis  aflojition.  The  French  government  bad 
taken  offense  at  his  journey  to  I'ruasia,  and   would  not 


468  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

permit  him  to  return  to  Paris;  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
Prussia  it  was  not  safe  for  him  to  remain. 

He  took  refuge  on  the  beautiful  shores  of  Lake  Leman. 
There,  loosed  from  every  tie  which  had  hitherto  restrained 
him,  and  having  little  to  hope  or  to  fear  from  courts 
and  churches,  he  began  his  long  war  against  all  that, 
whether  for  good  or  evil,  had  authority  over  man;  for 
what  Burke  said  of  the  Constituent  Assembly,  was  emi- 
nently true  of  this  its  great  forerunner:  Voltaire  could 
not  build :  he  could  only  pull  down :  he  was  the  very 
Vitruvius  *  of  ruin.  He  has  bequeathed  to  us  not  a  single 
doctrine  to  be  called  by  his  name,  not  a  single  addition 
to  the  stock  of  our  positive  knowledge.  But  no  human 
teacher  ever  loft  behind  him  so  vast  and  terrible  a  wreck 
of  truths  and  falsehoods,  of  things  noble  and  things  base, 
of  things  useful  and  things  pernicious.  From  the  time 
when  his  sojourn  beneath  the  Alps  commenced,  the 
dramatist,  the  wit,  the  historian,  was  merged  in  a  more 
important  character.  He  was  now  the  patriarch,  the 
founder  of  a  sect,  the  chief  of  a  conspiracy,  the  prince 
of  a  wide  intellectual  commonwealth.  He  often  enjoyed 
a  pleasure  dear  to  the  better  part  of  his  nature,  the 
pleasure  of  vindicating  innocence  which  had  no  other 
helper,  of  repairing  cruel  wrongs,  of  punishing  tyranny  in 
high  places.  He  had  also  the  satisfaction,  not  less  accept- 
able to  his  ravenous  vanity,  of  hearing  terrified  Capuchins 
call  him  the  Antichrist.  But  whether  employed  in  works 
of  benevolence,  or  in  works  of  mischief,  he  never  forgot 
Potsdam  and  Frankfort;  and  he  listened  anxiously  to 
every  murmur  which  indicated  that  a  tempest  was 
gathering  in  Europe,  and  that  his  vengeance  was  at 
hand. 

He  soon  had  his  wish.  Maria  Theresa  had  never  for  a 
moment  forgotten  the  great  wrong  which  she  had  received 
at  the  hand  of  Frederic.  Young  and  delicate,  just  left  an 
orphan,  just  about  to  be  a  mother,  she  had  been  compelled 
to  fly  from  the  ancient  capital  of  her  race;  she  had  seen 
her  fair  inheritance  dismemberefl  by  robbers,  and  of 
these  robbers  he  had  been  the  foremost.     Without  a  pre- 

•  Vitruvius  was  a  famous  architect  of  the  age  of  Augustus,  whose 
classic  principles  were  revived  with  the  Renaissance,  replacing  the 
architectural   methods  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  469 

text,  without  a  provocation,  in  defiance  of  the  most  sacred 
engagements,  he  had  attacked  the  helpless  ally  whom  he 
was  bound  to  defend.  The  Empress  Queen  had  the  faults 
as  well  as  virtues  which  are  connected  with  quick  sensi- 
bility and  a  high  spirit.  There  was  no  peril  which  she 
was  not  ready  to  brave,  no  calamity  which  she  was  not 
ready  to  bring  on  her  subjects,  or  on  the  whole  human 
race,  if  only  she  might  once  taste  the  sweetness  of  a  com- 
plete revenge.  Revenge,  too,  presented  itself,  to  her 
narrow  and  superstitious  mind,  in  the  guise  of  duty. 
Silesia  had  been  wrested  not  only  from  the  House  of 
Austria,  but  from  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  conqueror 
had  indeed  permitted  his  new  subjects  to  worship  God 
after  their  own  fashion ;  but  this  was  not  enough.  To 
bigotry  it  seemed  an  intolerable  hardship  that  the  Catholic 
Church,  having  long  enjoyed  ascendency,  should  be  com- 
pelled to  content  itself  with  equality.  Nor  was  this  the 
only  circumstance  which  led  Maria  Theresa  to  regard 
her  enemy  as  the  enemy  of  God.  The  profaneness  of 
Frederic's  writings  and  conversation,  and  the  frightful 
rumors  which  were  circulated  respecting  the  immorality 
of  his  private  life,  naturally  shocked  a  woman  who  be- 
lieved with  the  firmest  faith  all  that  her  confessor  told 
her,  and  who,  though  surrounded  by  temptations,  though 
young  and  beautiful,  though  ardent  in  all  her  passions, 
though  possessed  of  absolute  power,  had  preserved  her 
fame  unsullied  even  by  the  breath  of  slander. 

To  recover  Silesia,  to  humble  the  dynasty  of  Hohen- 
zollern  to  the  dust,  was  the  great  object  of  her  life.  She 
toiled  during  many  years  for  this  end,  with  zeal  as  in- 
defatigable as  that  which  the  poet  ascribes  to  the  stately 
goddess  who  tired  out  her  immortal  horses  in  the  work 
of  raising  the  nations  against  Troy,  and  who  olTereil  to 
give  up  to  destruction  her  dnrlirig  Sparta  aiul  Mycena',  if 
only  she  might  once  see  the  siuokf!  going  up  from  the 
palace  of  Priam.  With  even  such  a  spirit  did  the  proud 
Austrian  Juno  strive  to  array  against  her  foe  a  coalition 
such  as  Europe  had  never  seen.  Nothing  wotild  content 
her  but  that  the  whole  civilized  world,  from  the  White 
Sea  to  the  Adriatic,  from  the  7»ay  of  Biscay  to  the  pas- 
tures of  the  wild  horses  of  the  Tanais,  should  be  com- 
bined in  arms  against  one  petty  state. 


470  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

She  early  succeeded  by  various  arts  in  obtaining  the 
adhesion  of  Russia.  An  ample  share  of  spoil  was  prom- 
ised to  the  King  of  Poland;  and  that  prince,  governed 
by  his  favorite,  Count  Bruhl,  readily  promised  the 
assistance  of  the  Saxon  forces.  The  great  difficulty  was 
with  France.  That  the  Houses  of  Bourbon  and  of  Haps- 
burg  should  ever  cordially  cooperate  in  any  great  scheme 
of  European  policy,  had  long  been  thought,  to  use  the 
strong  expression  of  Frederic,  just  as  impossible  as  that 
fire  and  water  should  amalgamate.  The  whole  history  of 
the  Continent,  during  two  centuries  and  a  half,  had  been 
the  history  of  the  mutual  jealousies  and  enmities  of 
France  and  Austria.  Since  the  administration  of 
Richelieu,  above  all,  it  had  been  considered  as  the  plain 
policy  of  the  Most  Christian  King  to  thwart  on  all  occa- 
sions the  Court  of  Vienna,  and  to  protect  every  member 
of  the  Germanic  body  who  stood  up  against  the  dictation 
of  the  Caesars.  Common  sentiments  of  religion  had  been 
unable  to  mitigate  this  strong  antipathy.  The  rulers  of 
France,  even  while  clothed  in  the  Roman  purple,  even 
while  persecuting  the  heretics  of  Rochelle  and  Auvergne, 
had  still  looked  with  favor  on  the  Lutheran  and  Calvinis- 
tic  princes  who  were  struggling  against  the  chief  of  the 
empire.  If  the  French  ministers  paid  any  respect  to  the 
traditional  rules  handed  down  to  them  through  many 
generations,  they  would  have  acted  towards  Frederic  as 
the  greatest  of  their  predecessors  acted  towards  Gustavus 
Adolphus.  That  there  was  deadly  enmity  between  Prussia 
and  Austria  was  of  itself  a  sufficient  reason  for  close 
friendship  between  Prussia  and  France.  With  France 
Frederic  could  never  have  any  serious  controversy.  His 
territories  were  so  situated  that  his  ambition,  greedy  and 
unscrupulous  as  it  was,  could  never  impel  him  to  attack 
her  of  his  own  accord.  He  was  more  than  half  a  French- 
man :  he  wrote,  spoke,  read  nothing  but  French :  he 
delighted  in  French  society :  the  admiration  of  the  French 
he  proposed  to  himself  as  the  best  reward  of  all  his  ex- 
ploits. It  seemed  incredible  that  any  French  govern- 
ment, however  notorious  for  levity  or  stupidity,  could 
spurn  away  such  an  ally. 

The  Court  of  Vienna,  however,  did  not  despair.  The 
Austrian  diplomatists  propounded  a  new  scheme  of  poll- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  471 

tic3,  which,  it  must  be  owned,  was  not  altogether  without 
plausibility.  The  great  powers,  according  to  this  theory, 
had  long  been  under  a  delusion.  They  had  looked  on 
each  other  as  natural  enemies,  while  in  truth  they  were 
natural  allies.  A  succession  of  cruel  wars  had  devas- 
tated Europe,  had  thinned  the  population,  had  exhausted 
the  public  resources,  had  loaded  governments  with  an 
immense  burden  of  debt;  and  when,  after  two  hundred 
years  of  murderous  hostility  or  of  hollow  truce,  the  illus- 
trious Houses  whose  enmity  had  distracted  the  world  sat 
down  to  count  their  gains,  to  what  did  the  real  advantage 
on  either  side  amount?  Simply  to  this,  that  they  had 
kept  each  other  from  thriving.  It  was  not  the  King  of 
France,  it  was  not  the  Emperor,  who  had  reaped  the 
fruits  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  or  of  the  War  of  the 
Pragmatic  Sanction.  Those  fruits  had  been  pilfered  by 
states  of  the  second  and  third  rank,  which,  secured  against 
jealousy  by  their  insignificance,  had  dexterously  aggran- 
dized themselves  while  pretending  to  serve  the  animosity 
of  the  great  chiefs  of  Christendom.  While  the  lion  and 
tiger  were  tearing  each  other,  the  jackal  had  run  off  into 
the  jungle  with  the  prey.  The  real  gainer  by  the  Thirty 
Years'  War  had  been  neither  France  nor  Austria,  but 
Sweden.  The  real  gainer  by  the  war  of  the  Pragmatic 
Sanction  had  been  neither  France  nor  Austria,  but  the 
upstart  of  Brand('nl)urg.  France  had  made  great  efforts, 
had  added  largely  to  her  military  glorv,  and  largely  to 
her  public  l)urrlpns;  and  for  what  end?  ^Icrcly  that 
Frederic  might  rule  Silesia.  For  this  and  this  alone 
one  Frenfh  army,  wasted  l)y  sword  and  famine,  had 
perished  in  Prthcmia;  and  another  had  purchased,  with 
floods  of  the  noblest  blood,  the  barren  glory  of  Fontenoy. 
An<l  this  prince,  for  wlumi  France  had  suffered  so  much, 
was  he  a  grateful,  was  be  r-ven  an  honest  all.v?  Had  he 
not  been  as  false  to  the  C/Ourt  of  Versailles  as  to  the 
Court  of  Vienna?  Had  ho  not  played,  on  a  largo 
scale,  the  same  part  whieh,  in  private  life,  is  played 
by  the  vile  agent  of  chicane  who  sets  his  neighbors 
M'larrj'ling,  involves  them  in  costly  and  interminable 
litigation,  and  betrays  them  to  each  other  all  round, 
certain  that,  whoever  may  be  ruined,  he  shall  be  en- 
riched?     Surely    the    true    wisdom    of    the    great   powers 


472  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

was  to  attack,  not  each  other,  but  this  common  barrator, 
who,  by  inflaming  the  passions  of  both,  by  pretending  to 
serve  both,  and  by  deserting  both,  had  raised  himself 
above  the  station  to  which  he  was  born.  The  great  object 
of  Austria  was  to  regain  Silesia;  the  great  object  of 
France  was  to  obtain  an  accession  of  territory  on  the 
side  of  Flanders.  If  they  took  opposite  sides,  the  result 
would  probably  be  that,  after  a  war  of  many  years,  after 
the  slaughter  of  many  thousands  of  brave  men,  after  the 
waste  of  many  millions  of  crowns,  they  would  lay  down 
their  arms  without  having  achieved  either  object;  but,  if 
they  came  to  an  understanding,  there  would  be  no  risk, 
and  no  difficulty.  Austria  would  willingly  make  in  Bel- 
gium such  cessions  as  France  could  not  expect  to  obtain 
by  ten  pitched  battles.  Silesia  would  easily  be  annexed 
to  the  monarchy  of  which  it  had  long  been  a  part.  The 
union  of  two  such  powerful  governments  would  at  once 
overawe  the  King  of  Prussia.  If  he  resisted,  one  short 
campaign  would  settle  his  fate.  France  and  Austria,  long 
accustomed  to  rise  from  the  game  of  war  both  losers, 
would,  for  the  first  time,  both  be  gainers.  There  could 
lie  no  room  for  jealousy  between  them.  The  power  of 
both  would  be  increased  at  once;  the  equilibrium  between 
them  would  be  preserved;  and  the  only  sufferer  would  be 
a  mischievous  and  unprincipled  buccaneer,  who  deserved 
no  tenderness  from  either. 

These  doctrines,  attractive  from  their  novelty  and  in- 
genuity, soon  became  fashionable  at  the  supper-parties 
and  in  the  coflfee-houses  of  Paris,  and  were  espoused  by 
every  gay  marquis  and  every  facetious  abbe  who  was 
admitted  to  see  Madame  do  Pompadour's  hair  curled  and 
powdered.  It  was  not,  however,  to  any  political  theory 
that  the  strange  coalition  between  France  and  Austria 
owed  its  origin.  The  real  motive  which  induced  the  great 
continental  powers  to  forget  their  old  animosities  and 
their  old  state  maxims,  was  personal  aversion  to  the  King 
of  Prussia.  This  feeling  was  strongest  in  Maria  Theresa; 
but  it  was  by  no  means  confined  to  her.  Frederic,  in  some 
respects  a  good  master,  was  emphatically  a  bad  neighbor. 
That  he  was  hard  in  all  dealings,  and  quick  to  take  all 
advantages,  was  not  his  most  odious  fault.  His  bitter 
and  scoffing  speech  had  inflicted  keener  wounds  than  his 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  473 

ambition.  In  his  character  of  wit  he  was  under  less 
restraint  than  even  in  his  character  of  ruler.  Satirical 
verses  aj^ainst  all  the  princes  and  ministers  of  Europe 
were  ascribed  to  his  pen.  In  his  letters  and  conversation 
he  alluded  to  the  greatest  potentates  of  the  age  in  terms 
which  would  have  better  suited  Colle,  in  a  war  of  repartee 
with  young  Crebillon  at  Pelletier's  tabic,  than  a  great 
sovereign  speaking  of  great  sovereigns.  About  women  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  expressing  himself  in  a  manner  which 
it  was  impossible  for  the  meekest  of  women  to  forgive; 
and  unfortunately  for  him,  almost  the  whole  Continent 
was  then  governed  by  women  who  were  by  no  means  con- 
spicuous for  meekness.  Maria  Theresa  herself  had  not 
escaped  his  scurrilous  jests.  The  Empress  Elizabeth  of 
Russia  knew  that  her  gallantries  afforded  him  a  favorite 
theme  for  ribaldry  and  invective.  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour, who  was  really  the  head  of  the  French  government, 
had  been  even  more  keenly  galled.  She  had  attempted, 
by  the  most  delicate  flattery,  to  propitiate  the  King  of 
Prussia;  but  her  messages  had  drawn  from  him  only  dry 
and  sarcastic  replies.  The  Empress  Queen  took  a  very 
different  course.  Though  the  haughtiest  of  princesses, 
though  the  most  austere  of  matrons,  she  forgot  in  her 
thirst  for  revenge  both  the  dignity  of  her  race  and  the 
purity  of  her  character,  and  condescended  to  flatter  the 
low-born  and  low-minded  concubine,  who,  having  acquired 
influence  by  prostituting  herself,  retained  it  by  prosti- 
tuting others.  ^Maria  Theresa  actually  wrote  with  her 
own  hand  a  note,  full  of  expressions  of  esteem  and  friend- 
ship, to  her  dear  cousin,  the  daughter  of  the  butcher 
Poisson,  the  wife  of  the  publican  D'Ktioles,  the  kidnapper 
of  young  girls  for  the  harem  of  an  old  rake,  a  strange 
cousin  for  the  descendant  of  so  many  Eiuixrors  of  the 
Westl  Tlie  mistress  was  completely  gained  over,  and 
easily  carried  her  point  with  Louis,  wlio  bad  indeed 
wronRB  of  his  own  to  resent.  Tlis  feelings  were  not 
quick;  but  contempt,  says  the  Eastern  proverb,  pierces 
even  through  the  shell  of  the  tortoise;  and  neither  pru- 
dence nor  decorum  had  over  restrained  Frederic  from  ex- 
pressing his  measureless  contempt  for  the  sloth,  the 
imbecility,  and  the  baseness  of  Louis.  France  was  thus 
induced  to  join  the  coalition;  and  the  example  of  France 


474  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

determined  the  conduct  of  Sweden,  then  completely  sub- 
ject to  French  influence. 

The  enemies  of  Frederic  were  surely  strong  enough  to 
attack  him  openly;  but  they  were  desirous  to  add  to  all 
their  other  advantages  the  advantage  of  a  surprise.  He 
was  not,  however,  a  man  to  be  taken  off  his  guard.  He 
had  tools  in  every  court;  and  he  now  received  from 
Vienna,  from  Dresden,  and  from  Paris,  accounts  so  cir- 
cumstantial and  so  consistent,  that  he  could  not  doubt  of 
his  danger.  He  learnt,  that  he  was  to  be  assailed  at  once 
by  France,  Austria,  Russia,  Saxony,  Sweden,  and  the 
Germanic  body;  that  the  greater  part  of  his  dominions 
was  to  be  portioned  out  among  his  enemies;  that  France, 
which  from  her  geographical  position  could  not  directly 
share  in  his  spoils,  was  to  receive  an  equivalent  in  the 
Netherlands ;  that  Austria  was  to  have  Silesia,  and  the 
Czarina  East  Prussia ;  that  Augustus  of  Saxony  expected 
Magdeburg;  and  that  Sweden  would  be  rewarded  with 
part  of  Pomerania.  If  these  designs  succeeded,  the  house 
of  Brandenburg  would  at  once  sink  in  the  European 
system  to  a  place  lower  than  that  of  the  Duke  of  Wurtem- 
burg  or  the  Margrave  of  Baden. 

And  what  hope  was  there  that  these  designs  would  fail? 
No  such  union  of  the  continental  powers  had  been  seen 
for  ages.  A  less  formidable  confederacy  had  in  a  week 
conquered  all  the  provinces  of  Venice,  when  Venice  was 
at  the  height  of  power,  wealth,  and  glory.  A  less  for- 
midable confederacy  had  compelled  Louis  the  Fourteenth 
to  bow  down  his  haughty  head  to  the  very  earth.  A  less 
formidable  confederacy  has,  within  our  own  memory, 
subjugated  a  still  mightier  empire,  and  abased  a  still 
prouder  name.  Such  odds  had  never  been  heard  of  in  war. 
The  people  whom  Frederic  ruled  were  not  five  millions. 
The  population  of  the  countries  which  were  leagued 
against  him  amounted  to  a  hundred  millions.  The  dis- 
proportion in  wealth  was  at  least  equally  great.  Small 
communities,  actuated  by  strong  sentiments  of  patriotism 
or  loyalty,  have  sometimes  made  head  against  great  mon- 
archies weakened  by  factions  and  discontents.  But  small 
as  was  Frederic's  kingdom,  it  probably  contained  a  greater 
number  of  disaffected  subjects  than  were  to  be  found  in 
all  the  states  of  his  enemies.     Silesia  formed  a  fourth 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  475 

part  of  his  dominions;  and  from  the  Silesians,  born  under 
Austrian  princes,  the  utmost  that  he  could  expect  was 
apathy.  From  the  Silesian  Catholics  he  could  hardly  ex- 
pect anything  but  resistance. 

Some  states  have  been  enabled  by  their  geographical 
position  to  defend  themselves,  with  advantage,  against 
immense  force.  The  sea  has  repeatedly  protected  England 
against  the  fury  of  the  whole  Continent.  The  Venetian 
government,  driven  from  its  possessions  on  the  land,  could 
still  bid  defiance  to  the  confederates  of  Cambray  from 
the  Arsenal  amidst  the  lagoons.  More  than  one  great 
and  well-appointed  army,  which  regarded  the  shepherds 
of  Switzerland  as  an  easy  prey,  has  perished  in  the 
passes  of  the  Alps.  Frederic  had  no  such  advantage. 
The  form  of  his  states,  their  situation,  the  nature  of  the 
ground,  all  were  against  him.  His  long,  scattered, 
straggling  territory  seemed  to  have  been  shaped  with  an 
express  view  to  the  convenience  of  invaders,  and  was  pro- 
tected by  no  sea,  by  no  chain  of  hills.  Scarcely  any 
comer  of  it  was  a  week's  march  from  the  territory  of  the 
enemy.  The  capital  itself,  in  the  event  of  war,  would  be 
constantly  exposed  to  insult.  In  truth  there  was  hardly 
a  politician  or  a  soldier  in  Europe  who  doubted  that  the 
conflict  would  be  terminated  in  a  very  few  days  by  the 
prostration  of  the  house  of  Brandenburg. 

Xor  was  Frodoric's  own  opinion  very  different.  He 
anticipated  nothing  short  of  his  own  ruin,  and  of  the  ruin 
of  his  family.  Yet  there  was  still  a  chance,  a  slender 
chance,  of  escape.  His  states  had  at  least  the  advantage 
of  a  central  position;  his  enemies  were  widely  separated 
from  each  other,  and  could  not  conveniently  unite  their 
overwhelming  forces  on  one  ])f)int.  Tlicy  inliii])itrd  differ- 
ent climates,  and  it  was  i)rob:il)h^  that  the  season  of  the 
year  which  would  he  best  suited  to  the  military  operations 
of  one  portion  of  the  leagne,  wonld  Ix'  inifavorable  to 
those  of  another  portion.  The  Prnssian  monarchy,  too, 
was  free  from  some  infirmities  which  were  found  in 
empires  fur  more  extensive  and  niatrnififcnt.  Its  effective 
strength  for  a  desperate  struggh;  was  not  to  he  measured 
merely  by  the  number  of  squarn  miles  or  the  number  of 
people.  Tn  that  spare  hut  well-knit  and  wejl-exereised 
body,  there  was  nothing  hut  sinew,  and  muscle,  and  Ijono. 


476  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

No  public  creditors  looked  for  dividends.  No  distant 
colonies  required  defense.  No  court,  filled  with  flatterers 
and  mistresses,  devoured  the  pay  of  fifty  battalions.  The 
Prussian  army,  thouf^h  far  inferior  in  number  to  the 
troops  which  were  about  to  be  opposed  to  it,  was  yet 
strong  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  extent  of  the  Prussian 
dominions.  It  was  also  admirably  trained  and  admirably 
oflBcered,  accustomed  to  obey  and  accustomed  to  conquer. 
The  revenue  was  not  only  unencumbered  by  debt,  but 
exceeded  the  ordinary  outlay  in  time  of  peace.  Alone 
of  all  the  European  princes,  Frederic  had  a  treasure  laid 
up  for  a  day  of  difficulty.  Above  all,  he  was  one,  and 
his  enemies  were  many.  In  their  camps  would  certainly 
be  found  the  jealousy,  the  dissension,  the  slackness  insep- 
arable from  coalitions;  on  his  side  was  the  energy,  the 
unity,  the  secrecy  of  a  strong  dictatorship.  To  a  certain 
extent  the  deficiency  of  military  means  might  be  supplied 
by  the  resources  of  military  art.  Small  as  the  King's 
army  was,  when  compared  with  the  six  hundred  thousand 
men  whom  the  confederates  could  bring  into  the  field, 
celerity  of  movement  might  in  some  degree  compensate 
for  deficiency  of  bulk.  It  was  thus  just  possible  that 
genius,  judgment,  resolution,  and  good  luck  united,  might 
protract  the  struggle  during  a  campaign  or  two ;  and  to 
Kain  even  a  month  was  of  importance.  It  could  not  be 
long  before  the  vices  which  are  found  in  all  extensive 
confederacies  would  begin  to  show  themselves.  Every 
member  of  the  league  would  think  his  own  share  of  the 
war  too  large,  and  his  own  share  of  the  spoils  too  small. 
Complaints  and  recriminations  would  abound.  The  Turk 
might  stir  on  the  Danube;  the  statesmen  of  France  might 
discover  the  error  which  they  had  committed  in  abandon- 
ing the  fundamental  principles  of  their  national  policy. 
Above  all,  death  might  rid  Prussia  of  its  most  formidable 
enemies.  The  war  was  the  eflFcct  of  the  personal  aversion 
with  which  three  or  four  sovereigns  regarded  Frederic; 
and  the  decease  of  any  one  of  those  sovereigns  might  pro- 
duce a  complete  revolution  in  the  state  of  Europe. 

In  the  midst  of  a  horizon  generally  dark  and  stormy, 
Frederic  could  discern  one  bright  spot.  The  peace  which 
had  been  conoluded  between  England  and  France  in  1748, 
had  been  in  Europe  no  more  than  an  armistice;  and  had 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  47T 

not  even  been  an  armistice  in  other  quarters  of  the  globe. 
In  India  the  sovereignty  of  the  Camatic  vpas  disputed 
between  two  great  Mussulman  houses;  Fort  Saint  George 
had  taken  one  side,  Pondicherry  the  other;  and  in  a  series 
of  battles  and  sieges  the  troops  of  Lawrence  and  Olive  had 
been  opposed  to  those  of  Dupleix.  A  struggle  less  impor- 
tant in  its  consequences,  but  not  less  likely  to  produce 
irritation,  was  carried  on  between  those  French  and 
English  adventurers,  who  kidnaped  negroes  and  collected 
gold  dust  on  the  coast  of  Guinea.  But  it  was  in  North 
America  that  the  emulation  and  mutual  aversion  of  the 
two  nations  were  most  conspicuous.  The  French  at- 
tempted to  hem  in  the  English  colonists  by  a  chain  of 
military  posts,  extending  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  The  English  took  arms.  The 
wild  aboriginal  tribes  appeared  on  each  side  mingled 
with  the  pale  faces.  Battles  were  fought;  forts  were 
stormed ;  and  hideous  stories  about  stakes,  scalpings,  and 
death-songs  reached  Europe,  and  inflamed  that  national 
animosity  which  the  rivalry  of  ages  had  produced.  The 
disputes  between  France  and  England  came  to  a  crisis 
at  the  very  time  when  the  tempest  which  had  been 
gathering  was  about  to  burst  on  Prussia.  The  tastes  and 
interests  of  Frfdcric  would  have  led  him,  if  he  had  been 
allowed  an  option,  to  side  witli  the  house  of  Bourbon. 
But  the  folly  of  the  Court  of  Versailles  had  left  him  no 
choice.  France  bcfamc  the  tool  of  Austria;  and  Frederic 
was  forced  to  bffome  the  ally  of  England.  He  could 
not,  indeed,  expect  that  a  power  whifh  covered  the  sea 
with  its  fleets,  and  wliich  luul  to  make  war  at  once  on 
the  Ohio  and  the  CJaiigfs,  wf)uld  be  able  to  spare  a  large 
number  of  troops  for  operations  in  Germany.  But  En- 
gland, thfjiigh  j)()f)r  foriii);ir<'<I  with  the  Engliind  of  our 
time,  was  far  rifher  thiin  any  coiititry  on  the  ('ontiiient. 
The  amount  of  her  revenue,  and  the  resources  which  she 
found  in  h^r  rrcdit,  thrmgh  thry  iiuiy  be  tliMiitrht  small 
by  a  generatif)!!  which  lias  seen  her  raise  a  hiMidrcfl  and 
thirt.y  millions  in  a  single  year,  appeared  miraculous  to 
the  politiciiiTis  of  tb;it  age.  A  vr-ry  modfratc  j)ortif)Ti  of 
her  wealth,  expended  by  an  able  and  econornical  prince, 
in  a  cotintry  where  prices  were  low,  would  be  sufficient  to 
equip  and  maintain  a  formidable  army. 


478  HISTORIOAL  ESSAYS 

Such  was  the  situation  in  which  Frederic  found  him- 
self. He  saw  the  whole  extent  of  his  peril.  He  saw  that 
there  was  still  a  faint  possibility  of  escape;  and  with 
prudent  temerity  he  determined  to  strike  the  first  blow. 
It  was  in  the  month  of  August,  1756,  that  the  great  war 
of  the  Seven  Years  commenced.  The  King  demanded  of 
the  Empress  Queen  a  distinct  explanation  of  her  inten- 
tions, and  plainly  told  her  that  he  should  consider  a 
refusal  as  a  declaration  of  war.  "I  want,"  he  said,  "no 
answer  in  the  style  of  an  oracle."  He  received  an  answer 
at  once  haughty  and  evasive.  In  an  instant  the  rich 
electorate  of  Saxony  was  overflowed  by  sixty  thousand 
Prussian  troops.  Augustus  with  his  army  occupied  a 
strong  position  at  Pirna.  The  Queen  of  Poland  was  at 
Dresden.  In  a  few  days  Pirna  was  blockaded  and  Dres- 
den was  taken.  The  first  object  of  Frederic  was  to  obtain 
possession  of  the  Saxon  State  Papers;  for  those  papers 
he  well  knew  contained  ample  proofs  that,  though  appar- 
ently an  aggressor,  he  was  really  acting  in  self-defense. 
The  Queen  of  Poland,  as  well  acquainted  as  Frederic  with 
the  importance  of  those  documents,  had  packed  them  up, 
had  concealed  thom  in  her  bed-chamber,  and  was  about 
to  send  thom  off  to  Warsaw,  when  a  Prussian  officer  made 
his  appearance.  In  the  hope  that  no  soldier  would  ven- 
ture to  outrage  a  lady,  a  queen,  the  daughter  of  an  em- 
peror, the  mother-in-law  of  a  dauphin,  she  placed  herself 
before  the  trunk,  and  at  length  sat  down  on  it.  But  all 
resistance  was  vain.  The  papers  were  carried  to  Frederic, 
who  found  in  them,  as  he  expected,  abundant  evidence  of 
the  designs  of  the  coalition.  The  most  important  docu- 
ments were  instantly  published,  and  the  effect  of  the 
publication  was  great.  It  was  clear  that,  of  whatever 
sins  the  King  of  Prussia  might  formerly  have  been  guilty, 
he  was  now  the  injured  party,  and  had  merely  anticipated 
a  blow  intended  to  destroy  him. 

The  Saxon  camp  at  Pima  was  in  the  moan  time  closely 
invested ;  but  the  besieged  were  not  without  hopes  of 
succor.  A  great  Austrian  army  under  Marshal  Brown 
was  about  to  pour  through  the  passes  which  separate 
Bohemia  from  Saxony.  Frederic  left  at  Pima  a  force 
sufficient  to  deal  with  the  Saxons,  hastened  into  Bohemia, 
encountered  Brown  at  Lowositz,  and  defeated  him.     This 


FKEDERIC  THE  GREAT  479 

battle  decided  the  fate  of  Saxony.  Augustus  and  his 
favorite  Bruhl  fled  to  Poland.  The  whole  army  of  the 
electorate  capitulated.  From  that  time  till  the  end  of 
the  war,  Frederic  treated  Saxony  as  a  part  of  his  do- 
minions, or,  rather,  he  acted  towards  the  Saxons  in  a 
manner  which  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  whole  meaning^ 
of  that  tremendous  sentence,  "subjectos  tanquam  suos, 
viles  tanquam  alienos."  *  Saxony  was  as  much  in  his 
power  as  Brandenburg,  and  he  had  no  such  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  Saxony  as  he  had  in  the  welfare  of  Branden- 
burg. He  accordingly  levied  troops  and  exacted  contribu- 
tions throughout  the  enslaved  province,  with  far  more 
rigor  than  in  any  part  of  his  own  dominions.  Seventeen 
thousand  men  who  had  been  in  the  camp  at  Pirna  were 
half  compelled,  half  persuaded  to  enlist  under  their  con- 
queror. Thus,  within  a  few  weeks  from  the  commence- 
ment of  hostilities,  one  of  the  confederates  had  been  dis- 
armed, and  his  weapons  were  now  pointed  against  the 
rest. 

The  winter  put  a  stop  to  military  operations.  All 
had  hitherto  gone  well.  But  the  real  tug  of  war  was  still 
to  come.  It  was  easy  to  foresee  that  the  year  1757  would 
be  a  memorable  era  in  the  history  of  Europe. 

The  King'.",  scheme  for  the  campaign  was  simple,  bold, 
and  judicious.  The  Duko  of  Cumberland  with  an  Englisli 
and  HariDverian  army  was  in  Western  Germany,  and 
might  be  able  to  prevent  the  French  troops  from  attacking 
Prussia.  The  Russians,  confined  by  their  snows,  would 
probably  not  stir  till  the  spring  was  far  advanced.  Saxony 
was  prostrated.  Sweden  could  do  nothing  very  important. 
During  a  few  months  Frederic  would  have  to  deal  with 
Austria  alone.  Even  thus  the  odds  were  against  liirn. 
But  ability  and  conrage  have  often  triumphed  against 
odds  still  more  formidiible.   ♦ 

Early  in  17r)7  the  Prussian  army  in  Saxony  b(>gan  tf> 
move.  Through  four  defiles  in  the  mountains  they  came 
pouring  iiitf»  I'nbriiiia.  Prague  was  th<^  King's  first 
mark;  b»it  tin*  nlterior  object  was  prnl)ably  Vienna.  At 
Prague  lay  Marshal  Brown  with  one  great  army.  Daun, 
the  most  cantions  and  fortunate  of  the  Aiistriiin  cai)taiiis, 
was    advancing    with    another.       Frederic    (U^teriTiined    to 

*  Rigorously  nili'cl  as  subjects,  despised  as  forclKners. 


480  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

overwhelm  Brown  before  Daun  should  arrive.  On  the 
sixth  of  May  was  fought,  under  those  walls  which,  a  hun- 
dred and  thirty  years  before,  had  witnessed  the  victory 
of  the  Catholic  league  and  the  flight  of  the  unhappy 
Palatine,  a  battle  more  bloody  than  any  which  Europe 
saw  during  the  long  interval  between  Malplaquet  and 
Eylau.  The  King  and  Prince  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick 
were  distinguished  on  that  day  by  their  valor  and  exer- 
tions. But  the  chief  glory  was  with  Schwerin.  When 
the  Prussian  infantry  wavered,  the  stout  old  marshal 
snatched  the  colors  from  an  ensign,  and,  waving  them  in 
the  air,  led,  back  his  regiment  to  the  charge.  Thus  at 
seventy-two  years  of  age  he  fell  in  the  thickest  battle, 
still  grasping  the  standard  which  bears  the  black  eagle 
on  the  field  argent.  The  victory  remained  with  the  King ; 
but  it  had  been  dearly  purchased.  Whole  columns  of  his 
bravest  warriors  had  fallen.  He  admitted  that  he  had 
lost  eighteen  thousand  men.  Of  the  enemy,  twenty-four 
thousand  had  been  killed,  wounded,  or  taken. 

Part  of  the  defeated  army  was  shut  up  in  Prague.  Part 
fled  to  join  the  troops  which,  under  the  command  of  Daun, 
were  now  close  at  hand.  Frederic  determined  to  play 
over  the  same  game  which  had  succeeded  at  Lowositz. 
He  left  a  large  force  to  besiege  Prague,  and  at  the  head  of 
thirty  thousand  men  he  marched  against  Daun.  The 
cautious  Marshal,  though  he  had  a  great  superiority  in 
numbers,  would  risk  nothing.  He  occupied  at  Kolin  a 
position  almost  impregnable,  and  awaited  the  attack  of 
the  King. 

It  was  the  eighteenth  of  June,  a  day  which,  if  the  Greek 
superstition  still  retained  its  influence,  would  be  held 
sacred  to  Nemesis,  a  day  on  which  the  two  greatest 
princes  of  modern  times  were  taught,  by  a  terrible  experi- 
ence, that  neither  skill  nor  valor  can  fix  the  inconstancy 
of  fortune.  The  battle  began  before  noon;  and  part  of 
the  Prussian  army  maintained  the  contest  till  after  the 
midsummer  sun  had  gone  down.  But  at  length  the  King 
found  that  his  troops,  having  been  repeatedly  driven  back 
with  frightful  carnage,  could  no  longer  be  led  to  the 
charge.  He  was  with  difficulty  persuaded  to  quit  the  field. 
The  officers  of  his  personal  .staff  were  under  the  necessity 
of  expostulating  with  him,  and  one  of  them  took  the  lib- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  481 

erty  to  say,  "Does  your  Majesty  mean  to  storm  the  bat- 
teries alone?"  Thirteen  thousand  of  his  bravest  followers 
had  perished.  Nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  retreat 
in  good  order,  to  raise  the  siege  of  Prague,  and  to  hurry 
his  army  by  different  routes  out  of  Bohemia. 

This  stroke  seemed  to  be  final.  Frederic's  situation  had 
at  best  been  such,  that  only  an  uninterrupted  run  of  good 
luck  could  save  him,  as  it  seemed,  from  ruin.  And  now, 
almost  in  the  outset  of  the  contest,  he  had  met  with  a 
check  which,  even  in  a  war  between  equal  powers,  would 
have  been  felt  as  serious.  He  had  owed  much  to  the 
opinion  which  all  Europe  entertained  of  his  army.  •Since 
his  accession,  his  soldiers  had  in  many  successive  battles 
been  victorious  over  the  Austrians.  But  the  glorj'  had 
departed  from  his  arms.  All  whom  his  malevolent  sar- 
casms had  wounded,  made  haste  to  avenge  themselves  by 
scoffing  at  the  scoffer.  His  soldiers  had  ceased  to  confide 
in  his  star.  In  every  part  of  his  camp  his  dispositions 
were  .severely  criticized.  Even  in  his  own  family  he  had 
detractors.  His  next  brother,  William,  hcir-prcsumptive, 
or  rather,  in  tnith,  heir-ai)parent  to  the  throne,  and  great- 
grandfather of  the  present  king,  could  not  refrain  from 
lamenting  his  own  fate  and  that  of  the  House  of  Ilohen- 
zollcrn,  oiu-e  so  great  and  so  prosjierous,  but  now,  by  the 
rash  ambition  of  its  chief,  made  a  by-word  to  all  nations. 
These  comi)laints,  and  SDUie  Idundcrs  which  William  com- 
mitted during  the  retreat  from  liolicmia,  called  forth  the 
bitter  disj)leasure  of  the  inexorable  King.  The  prince's 
heart  was  broken  by  thi*  cutting  reproaches  of  his  brother; 
he  quitted  the  army,  retired  to  a  country  seat,  and  in  a 
short  time  died  of  shame  and  vexation. 

It  seemed  that  the  King's  distress  could  hardly  be  in- 
creased. Yet  at  this  moment-  anotlier  blow  not  less 
terrible  than  that  of  Kolin  fell  upon  him.  The  Fremh 
under  Marshal  D'Estrees  had  invade«l  (lermany.  The 
Duke  of  Cumberland  bad  given  tliciu  battle  at  Ilastem- 
beck,  aiul  had  been  defeated.  In  order  to  save  the 
Electorate  of  Hanover  from  entire  subjugation,  he  had 
made,  at  Closter  Seven,  an  arrangement  with  tlie  Freiwli 
Generals,  which  left  them  at  liberty  to  turn  their  arms 
against   the  Prussian   dominions. 

That  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  Frederick's  distress. 


482  HISTOIUCAL  ESSAYS 

he  lost  his  mother  just  at  this  time;  and  he  appears  to 
have  felt  the  loss  more  than  was  to  be  expected  from 
the  hardness  and  severity  of  his  character.  In  truth,  his 
misfortunes  had  now  cut  to  the  quick.  The  mocker,  the 
tyrant,  the  most  rigorous,  the  most  imperious,  the  most 
cynical  of  men,  was  very  unhappy.  His  face  was  so 
haggard  and  his  form  so  thin,  that  when  on  his  return 
from  Bohemia  he  passed  through  Lcipsic,  the  people 
hardly  knew  him  again.  His  sleep  was  broken;  the  tears, 
in  spite  of  himself,  often  started  into  his  eyes;  and  the 
grave  began  to  present  itself  to  his  agitated  mind  as  the 
best  refuge  from  misery  and  dishonor.  His  resolution 
was  fixed  never  to  be  taken  alive,  and  never  to  make  peace 
on  condition  of  descending  from  his  place  among  the 
powers  of  Europe.  He  saw  nothing  left  for  him  except 
to  die;  and  he  deliberately  chose  his  mode  of  death.  He 
always  carried  about  with  him  a  sure  and  speedy  poison 
in  a  small  glass  case;  and  to  the  few  in  whom  he  placed 
confidence,  he  made  no  mystery  of  his  resolution. 

But  we  should  very  imperfectly  describe  the  state  of 
Erederic's  mind,  if  we  left  out  of  view  the  laughable 
peculiarities  which  contrasted  so  singularly  with  the 
gravity,  energy,  and  harshness  of  his  character.  It  is 
difficult  to  say  wliether  the  tragic  or  the  comic  predom- 
inated in  the  strange  scene  which  was  then  acting.  In 
the  midst  of  all  the  great  King's  calamities,  his  passion 
for  writing  indiflferent  poetry  grew  stronger  and  stronger. 
Enemies  all  round  him,  despair  in  his  heart,  pills  of  cor- 
rosive sublimate  hidden  in  his  clothes,  he  poured  forth 
hundreds  upon  hundreds  of  lines,  hateful  to  gods  and 
men,  the  insipid  dregs  of  Voltaire's  Hippocrene,  the  faint 
echo  of  the  lyre  of  Chaulieu.  It  is  amusing  to  compare 
what  he  did  during  the  last  months  of  17.57,  with  what 
he  wrote  during  the  same  time.  It  may  be  doubted 
whether  any  equal  portion  of  the  life  of  Hannibal,  of 
Caesar,  or  of  Napoleon,  will  bear  a  comparison  with  that 
short  period,  the  most  brilliant  in  the  history  of  Prussia 
and  of  Frederic.  Yet  at  this  very  time  the  scanty  leisure 
of  the  illustrious  warrior  was  employed  in  producing  odes 
and  epistles,  a  little  better  than  Gibber's*  and  a  little  worse 

••Gibber  and  Hayley  were  two  English  poets,  the  former  ridiculed 
in   Pope's  "Dunciad." 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  483 

than  Hayley's.*  Here  and  there  a  manly  sentiment  which 
deserves  to  be  in  prose  makes  its  appearance  in  company 
with  Prometheus  and  Orpheus,  Elysium  and  Acheron,  the 
plaintive  Philomel,  the  poppies  of  Morpheus,  and  all  the 
other  frippery  which,  like  a  robe  tossed  by  a  proud  beauty 
to  her  waiting-woman,  has  long  been  contemptuously 
abandoned  by  genius  to  mediocrity.  We  hardly  know  any 
instance  of  the  strength  and  weakness  of  human  nature 
so  striking,  and  so  grotesque,  as  the  character  of  this 
haughty,  vigilant,  resolute,  sagacious  blue-stocking,  half 
Mithridates  and  half  Trissotin,  bearing  up  against  a  world 
in  arms,  with  an  ounce  of  poison  in  one  pocket  and  a  quire 
of  bad  verses  in  the  other. 

Frederic  had  some  time  before  made  advances  towards 
a  reconciliation  with  Voltaire;  and  some  civil  letters  had 
passed  between  them.  After  the  battle  of  Kolin  their 
epistolary'  intercourse  became,  at  least  in  seeming,  friendly 
and  confidential.  We  do  not  know  any  collection  of  Let- 
ters which  throws  so  much  light  on  the  darkest  and  most 
intricate  parts  of  human  nature,  as  the  correspondence 
of  these  strange  beings  after  they  had  exchanged  forgive- 
ness. Both  felt  that  the  quarrel  had  lowered  thiMU  in  the 
public  estimation.  They  admired  each  other.  Tliey  stood 
in  need  of  each  other.  The  great  King  wished  to  be 
handed  down  to  posterity  by  the  great  Writer.  The 
great  Writer  felt  himself  exalteil  by  the  homage  of  tlie 
great  King.  Yet  the  wounds  which  they  had  inflicted 
on  each  other  were  too  deeji  to  be  efTaeed,  or  even  per- 
fectly healed.  Not  only  did  the  scars  remain;  the  sore 
places  often  festered  and  bled  afresh.  The  letters  con- 
sisted for  the  most  part  of  eonipliments,  thanks,  ofl"er3  of 
service,  assurances  of  attaclniient.  I»ut  if  anything 
brought  back  to  Frederic's  recollection  the  cunning  and 
misfhievons  pranks  by  which  Volt;iire  h.ul  provoked  him, 
some  exjircHHion  of  contempt  and  disiili-asure  broke  forth 
in  the  midst  of  eulogy.  It  was  much  worse  when  any- 
thing reealled  tf)  tlie  niind  f>f  Voltiiire  the  ontrages  whicli 
he  and  his  kinswoman  had  sufTered  at  Frankfort.  All 
at  once  his  flowing  panegyric  was  turned  into  invective. 
"Remember  how  you  behaved  to  me.    For  your  sake  I  have 

•  Clbb<T  nnd   Hayl«'y  were  two  Engllnh  poets,  the  former  ridiculed 
tn    Popc'8   "Dunciaci." 


484  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

lost  the  favor  of  my  native  kinp.  For  your  sake  I  am 
an  exile  from  my  country.  I  loved  you.  I  trusted  my- 
self to  you.  I  had  no  wish  but  to  end  my  life  in  your 
service.  And  what  was  my  reward  ?  Stripped  of  all  that 
you  had  bestowed  on  me,  the  key,  the  order,  the  pension,  I 
was  forced  to  fly  from  your  territories.  I  was  hunted  as 
if  I  had  been  a  deserter  from  your  grenadiers.  I  was 
arrested,  insulted,  plundered.  My  niece  was  dragged 
through  the  mud  of  Frankfort  by  your  soldiers,  as  if  she 
had  been  some  wretched  follower  of  your  camp.  You 
have  great  talents.  You  have  good  qualities.  But  you 
have  one  odious  vice.  You  delight  in  the  abasement  of 
your  fellow-creatures.  You  have  brought  disgrace  on  the 
name  of  philosopher.  You  have  given  some  color  to  the 
slanders  of  the  bigots,  who  say  that  no  confidence  can 
be  placed  in  tho  justice  or  humanity  of  those  who  reject 
the  Christian  faith."  Then  the  King  answers,  with  less 
heat  but  equal  severity — "You  know  that  you  behaved 
shamefully  in  Prussia.  It  was  well  for  you  that  you  had 
to  deal  with  a  man  so  indulgent  to  the  infirmities  of 
genius  as  I  am.  You  richly  deserved  to  see  the  inside  of 
a  dungeon.  Your  talents  are  not  more  widely  known 
than  your  faithlessness  and  your  malevolence.  The  grave 
itself  is  no  asylum  from  your  spite.  Maupertuis  is  dead; 
but  you  still  go  on  calumniating  and  deriding  him,  as 
if  you  had  not  made  him  miserable  enough  while  he  was 
living.  Let  us  have  no  more  of  this.  And,  above  all, 
let  me  hoar  no  more  of  your  niece.  I  am  sick  to  death 
of  her  name.  I  can  boar  with  your  faults  for  the  sake 
of  your  merits;  but  she  has  not  written  Mohammed  or 
!Merope." 

An  explosion  of  this  kind,  it  might  be  supposed,  would 
necessarily  put  an  end  to  all  amicable  communication. 
But  it  was  not  so.  After  every  outbreak  of  ill  humor 
this  extraordinary  pair  became  more  loving  than  before, 
and  exchanged  compliments  and  assurances  of  mutual  re- 
gard with  a  wonderful  air  of  sincerity. 

It  may  well  be  supposed  that  men  who  wrote  thus  to 
each  other  were  not  very  guarded  in  what  they  said  of 
each  other.  The  English  ambassador,  Mitchell,  who  knew 
that  the  King  of  Prussia  was  constantly  writing  to  Vol- 
taire with  the  greatest  freedom   on  the  most  important 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  485 

subjects,  was  amazed  to  hear  his  Majesty  designate  this 
highly  favored  correspondent  as  a  bad-hearted  fellow,  the 
greatest  rascal  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  And  the  lan- 
guage which  the  poet  held  about  the  King  was  not  much 
more  respectful. 

It  would  probably  have  puzzled  Voltaire  himself  to  say 
what  was  his  real  feeling  towards  Frederic.  It  was  com- 
pounder of  all  sentiments,  from  enmity  to  friendship,  and 
from  scorn  to  admiration;  and  the  proportions  in  which 
these  elements  were  mixed,  changed  every  moment.  The 
old  patriarch  resembled  the  spoiled  child  who  screams, 
stamps,  cuffs,  laughs,  kisses,  and  cuddles  within  one- 
quarter  of  an  hour.  His  resentment  was  not  extin- 
guished; yet  he  was  not  without  sympathy  for  his  old 
friend.  As  a  Frenchman,  he  wished  success  to  the  arms 
of  his  country.  As  a  philosopher,  he  was  anxious  for 
the  stability  of  a  throne  on  which  a  philosopher  sat.  He 
longed  both  to  serve  and  to  humble  Frederic.  There  was 
one  way  and  only  one  in  wbich  all  his  conflicting  feelings 
could  at  once  be  gratified.  If  Frederic  wore  preserved  by 
the  interference  of  France,  if  it  were  known  that  for 
tliat  interference  he  was  indebted  to  the  mediation  of 
Voltaire,  this  would  indeed  be  delicious  revenge;  this 
would  indeed  be  to  heap  coals  of  fire  on  that  haughty 
head.  Nor  did  tlie  vain  and  restless  poet  think  it  impos- 
sible that  he  might,  from  his  hermitage  near  the  Alps, 
diftate  peace  to  Europe.  D'Estrees  had  quitted  Hanover, 
and  tbe  eomniand  of  tlie  French  army  had  licen  intrusted 
to  the  Duke  of  Riflielieu,  a  man  whose  chief  distinction 
was  derivf'fl  from  his  success  in  gallantry'.  Richelieu  was 
in  trutb  tlie  most  eminent  r)f  tliat  race  of  seducers  by 
profesHion,  who  furnisbed  Crcbillon  the  younger  and  La 
Clos  witb  niocjels  for  tlicir  heroes.  In  his  earlier  days 
the  royal  bon^e  itself  bad  not  been  secure  from  his  pre- 
sumptuous love.  He  was  believed  to  liave  carried  his 
conquests  into  tbe  family  of  Orleans;  and  some  suspectcil 
that  ho  was  not  unconcerned  in  tlic  mysterious  remorse 
which  embittered  the  last  hours  of  the  charming  mother 
of  Louis  the  Fifteenth.  But  the  Duke  was  now  sixty 
years  old.  With  a  heart  deeply  corrupted  by  vice,  a 
head  long  accustomed  to  think  only  on  trifles,  an  im- 
paired  constitution,  an   impaired   fortune,   and,  worst  of 


486  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

all,  a  very  red  nose,  he  was  entering  on  a  dull,  frivolous, 
and  iinrespeeted  old  age.  Without  one  qualification  for 
military  command,  except  that  personal  courage  which 
was  common  between  him  and  the  whole  nobility  of 
France,  he  had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the  army  of 
Hanover;  and  in  that  situation  he  did  his  best  to  repair, 
by  extortion  and  corruption,  the  injury  which  he  had 
done  to  his  property  by  a  life  of  dissolute  profusion. 

The  Duke  of  Richelieu  to  the  end  of  his  life  hated  the 
philosophers  as  a  sect,  not  for  those  parts  of  their  system 
which  a  good  and  wise  man  would  have  condemned,  but 
for  their  virtues,  for  their  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  and  for 
their  hatred  of  those  social  abuses  of  which  he  was  him- 
self the  personification.  But  he,  like  many  of  those  who 
thought  with  him,  excepted  Voltaire  from  the  list  of  pro- 
scribed writers.  He  frequently  sent  flattering  letters  to 
Ferney.  He  did  the  patriarch  the  honor  to  borrow  money 
of  him,  and  even  carried  this  condescending  friendship  so 
far  as  to  forget  to  pay  the  interest.  Voltaire  thought 
that  it  might  be  in  his  power  to  bring  the  Duke  and  the 
King  of  Prussia  into  communication  with  each  other. 
He  wrote  earnestly  to  both ;  and  he  so  far  succeeded  that 
a  correspondence  between  them  was  commenced. 

But  it  was  to  very  different  means  that  Frederic  was  to 
owe  his  deliverance.  At  the  beginning  of  November,  the 
net  seemed  to  have  closed  completely  round  him.  The 
Russians  were  in  the  field,  and  were  spreading  devasta- 
tion through  his  eastern  provinces.  Silesia  was  overrun 
by  the  Austrians.  A  great  French  army  was  advancing 
from  the  west  under  the  command  of  Marshal  Soubise,  a 
prince  of  the  great  Armorican  house  of  Rohan.  Berlin 
itself  had  been  taken  and  plundered  by  the  Croatians. 
Such  was  the  situation  from  which  Frederic  extricated 
himself,  with  dazzling  glory,  in  the  short  space  of  thirty 
days. 

He  marched  first  against  Soubise.  On  the  fifth  of  No- 
vember the  armies  met  at  Rosbach.  The  French  were  two 
to  one;  but  they  were  ill  disciplined,  and  their  general  was 
a  dunce.  The  tactics  of  Frederic,  and  the  well-regulated 
valor  of  the  Prussian  troops,  obtained  a  complete  victory. 
Seven  thousand  of  the  invaders  were  made  prisoners. 
Their  guns,  their  colors,  their  baggage,  fell  into  the  hands 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  487 

of  the  conquerors.  Those  who  escaped  fled  as  confusedly 
as  a  mob  scattered  by  cavalry.  Victorious  in  the  West^ 
the  King  turned  his  arms  towards  Silesia.  In  that  quar- 
ter everything  seemed  to  be  lost.  Brcslau  had  fallen;  and 
Charles  of  Loraine,  with  a  mighty  power,  held  the  whole 
province.  On  the  fifth  of  December,  exactly  one  month 
after  the  battle  of  Rosbach,  Frederic,  with  forty  thousand 
men,  and  Prince  Charles,  at  the  head  of  not  less  than 
gixty  thousand,  met  at  Leuthen,  hard  by  Breslau.  The 
King,  who  was,  in  general,  perhaps  too  much  inclined  to 
consider  the  common  soldier  as  a  mere  machine,  resorted, 
on  this  great  day,  to  means  resembling  those  which 
Bonaparte  afterwards  employed  with  such  signal  success 
for  the  purpose  of  stimulating  military  enthusiasm.  The 
principal  officers  were  convoked.  Frederic  addressed  them 
with  great  force  and  pathos ;  and  directed  them  to  speak 
to  their  men  as  he  had  spoken  to  them.  When  the  armies 
were  set  in  battle  array,  the  Prussian  troops  were  in  a 
state  of  fierce  excitement;  but  their  excitement  showed  it- 
self after  the  fashion  of  a  grave  people.  The  columns  ad- 
vanced to  the  attack  chanting,  to  the  sound  of  drums  and 
fifes,  the  rude  hymns  of  the  old  Saxon  Sternholds.  They 
had  never  fought  so  well;  nor  had  the  genius  of  their  chief 
ever  been  so  conspicuous.  "That  battle,"  said  Xajjolcon, 
"was  a  masterpiece.  Of  itself  it  is  sufficient  to  entitle 
Frederic  to  a  place  in  the  first  rank  among  generals."  The 
victory  was  complete.  Twenty-seven  thousand  Austrians 
were  killed,  wounded,  or  taken;  fifty  stand  of  colors,  a 
hundred  guns,  four  thotisand  wagons,  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  J'russians.  Jireslau  opened  its  gates;  Silesia  was 
reconquered;  Charles  of  Loraine  retired  to  hide  his  shame 
and  sorrow  at  Brussels;  and  Frederic  allowed  his  troops 
to  take  some  rei)ose  in  winter  iiuarters,  after  a  campaign, 
to  the  vicissitudes  of  which  it  will  hv  difficult  to  find  any 
parallel    in   aiieir'nt  or   niodern   history. 

The  King's  fame  filled  all  the  world.  lie  had,  iluring 
the  last  year,  maintained  a  contest,  on  terms  of  advantage, 
against  three  powers,  the  weakest  of  wliieh  had  mor<;  than 
three  times  his  resources,  lie  had  fought  four  great 
pitched  battles  against  superior  forces.  Three  of  these 
battles  he  had  gained;  and  the  defeat  of  Kolin,  re[)aired 
as   it  had  been,  rather   raised   than   lowered   his   military 


488  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

renown.  The  victory  of  Leuthen  is,  to  this  day,  the 
proudest  on  the  roll  of  Prussian  fame.  Leipsic  indeed, 
and  Waterloo,  produced  consequences  more  important  to 
mankind.  But  the  glory  of  Leipsic  must  be  shared  by 
the  Prussians  with  the  Austrians  and  Russians;  and  at 
"Waterloo  the  British  infantry  bore  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day.  The  victory  of  Rosbach  was,  in  a  military 
point  of  view,  less  honorable  than  that  of  Leuthen;  for 
it  was  gained  over  an  incapable  general  and  a  disorgan- 
ized army;  but  the  moral  effect  which  it  produced  was 
immense.  All  the  preceding  triumphs  of  Frederic  had 
been  triumphs  over  Germans,  and  could  excite  no  emo- 
tions of  national  pride  among  the  German  people.  It 
was  impossible  that  a  Hessian  or  a  Hanoverian  could 
feel  any  patriotic  exultation  at  hearing  that  Pomeranians 
had  slaughtered  Moravians,  or  that  Saxon  banners  had  been 
hung  in  the  churches  of  Berlin.  Indeed,  though  the  mili- 
tary character  of  the  Germans  justly  stood  high  through- 
out the  world,  they  could  boast  of  no  great  day  which 
belonged  to  them  as  a  people;  of  no  Agincourt,  of  no 
Bannockburn.  Most  of  their  victories  had  been  gained 
over  each  other;  and  their  most  splendid  exploits  against 
foreigners  had  been  achieved  under  the  command  of 
Eugene,  who  was  himself  a  foreigiicr.  The  news  of  the 
battle  of  Rosbach  stirred  the  blood  of  the  whole  of  the 
mighty  population  from  the  Alps  to  the  Baltic,  and  from 
the  borders  of  Courland  to  those  of  Loraine.  Westphalia 
and  Lower  Saxony  had  been  deluged  by  a  great  host  of 
strangers,  whose  speech  was  unintelligible,  and  whose 
petulant  and  licentious  manners  had  excited  the  strongest 
feelings  of  disgust  and  hatred.  That  great  host  had  been 
put  to  flight  by  a  small  band  of  German  warriors,  led  by 
a  prince  of  German  blood  on  the  side  of  father  and 
mother,  and  marked  by  the  fair  hair  and  the  clear  blue 
eye  of  Germany.  Never  since  the  dissolution  of  the  em- 
pire of  Charlemagne,  had  the  Teutonic  race  won  such  a 
field  against  the  French.  The  tidings  called  forth  a  gen- 
eral burst  of  delight  and  pride  from  the  whole  of  the 
great  family  which  spoke  the  various  dialects  of  the 
ancient  language  of  Arminius.  The  fame  of  Frederic 
began  to  supply,  in  some  degree,  the  place  of  a  common 
government  and  of  a  common  capital.    It  became  a  rally- 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  489 

ing  point  for  all  true  Germans,  a  subject  of  mutual  con- 
gratulation to  the  Bavarian  and  the  Westphalian,  to  the 
citizen  of  Frankfort  and  the  citizen  of  Nuremburg.  Then 
first  it  was  manifest  that  the  Germans  were  truly  a  nation. 
Then  first  was  discernible  that  patriotic  spirit  which,  in 
1813,  achieved  the  great  deliverance  of  central  Europe^ 
and  which  still  guards,  and  long  will  guard,  against  for- 
eign ambition  the  old  freedom  of  the  Rhine. 

Xor  were  the  effects  produced  by  that  celebrated  day 
merely  political.  The  greatest  masters  of  German  poetry 
and  eloquence  have  admitted  that,  though  the  great  King 
neither  valued  nor  understood  hi.s  native  language,  though 
he  looked  on  France  as  the  only  seat  of  taste  and  philoso- 
phy, yet  in  his  own  despite,  he  did  much  to  emancipate 
the  genius  of  his  countrymen  from  the  foreign  yoke;  and 
that,  in  the  act  of  vanquishing  Soubise,  he  was,  uninten- 
tionall.v,  rousing  the  spirit  which  soon  began  to  question 
the  literary  precedence  of  Boileau  and  Voltaire.  So 
strangely  do  events  confound  all  the  plans  of  man.  A 
I)riiK'c  who  read  only  French,  who  wrote  only  French, 
wlio  aspired  to  rank  as  a  French  classic,  became,  (piite 
unconseiousl.y,  the  means  of  liberating  half  the  Continent 
from  the  dominion  of  that  French  criticism  of  which  he 
was  himself,  to  the  eiu]  of  his  life,  a  slave.  Yet  even  th(> 
enthusiasm  of  Germany  in  favor  of  Frederic  hardly 
equaled  the  enthusiasm  of  Engbuid.  The  birth-day  of  oiir 
ally  was  eeb-brated  with  as  miicli  enthusiasm  as  that  of 
our  own  sovereigns;  and  at  night  the  streets  of  London 
were  in  a  blaze  with  illuminations.  Portraits  of  the 
Hero  of  Roshach,  with  his  crx-ked  hat  and  long  ])igtail, 
were  in  every  house.  An  attentive  observer  will,  at  this 
day,  find  in  the  j)arlor-  of  old-fashioned  inns,  iiiid  in  the 
I»ortfolioH  of  print-sellers,  twenty  portraits  of  Frederic  for 
one  of  George  the  Second.  The  sign-painters  were  cver.y- 
where  employed  in  touching  iiji  .Admiral  Vernon  into  the 
King  of  Prussia.  This  enthusiasm  was  strong  among 
religious  people,  and  especially  among  the  Aletliodists, 
who  knew  that  the  Fn-nch  and  .Xii'^trians  were  I'a|)ists, 
and  suppf)sed  Frederic  to  be  the  .loslnia  or  Gideon  of  tlict 
Reformed  Faith.  One  of  Whitfield's  hearers,  on  the  day 
on  which  thanks  for  the  battle  (pf  Leuthen  wen-  returned 
at    the    Tabernacle,    made    the    following    exquisitely    lu- 


490  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

dicrous  entry  in  a  diary,  of  which  has  come  down  to  us : 
"The  Lord  stirred  up  the  Kinp:  of  Prussia  and  his  soldiers 
to  pray.  They  kept  three  fast  days,  and  spent  about  an 
hour  praying  and  singing  psalms  before  they  engaged  the 
enemy.  O!  how  good  it  is  to  pray  and  fight!"  Some 
young  Englishmen  of  rank  proposed  to  visit  Germany 
as  volunteers,  for  the  purpose  of  learning  the  art  of  war 
under  the  greatest  of  commanders.  This  last  proof  of 
British  attachment  and  admiration,  Frederic  politely  but 
firmly  declined.  His  camp  was  no  place  for  amateur 
students  of  military  science.  The  Prussian  discipline  was 
rigorous  even  to  cruelty.  The  officers,  while  in  the  field, 
were  expected  to  practise  an  abstemiousness  and  self- 
denial  such  as  was  hardly  surpassed  by  the  most  rigid 
monastic  orders.  However  noble  their  birth,  however  high 
their  rank  in  the  service,  they  were  not  permitted  to  eat 
from  anything  better  than  pewter.  It  was  a  high  crime 
even  in  a  count  and  field-marshal  to  have  a  single  silver 
spoon  among  his  baggage.  Gay  young  Englishmen  of 
twenty  thousand  a  year,  accustomed  to  liberty  and  to 
luxury,  would  not  easily  submit  to  these  Spartan  re- 
straints. The  King  eould  not  venture  to  keep  them  in 
order  as  he  kept  his  own  sulijects  in  order.  Situated  as  he 
was  with  respect  to  England,  he  could  not  well  imprison 
or  shoot  refractory  Howards  and  Cavendishes.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  example  of  a  few  fine  gentlemen,  attended 
by  chariots  and  livery  servants,  eating  in  plate,  and  drink- 
ing Champagne  and  Tokay,  was  enough  to  corrupt  his 
whole  army.  He  thought  it  best  to  make  a  stand  at  first, 
and  civilly  refused  to  admit  such  dangerous  companions 
among  his  troops. 

The  help  of  England  was  bestowed  in  a  manner  far 
more  useful  and  more  acceptable.  An  annual  subsidy  of 
near  seven  hundred  thousand  y)ounds  enabled  the  King 
to  add  probably  more  than  fifty  thousand  men  to  his 
army.  Pitt,  now  at  the  height  of  power  and  popularity, 
undertook  the  task  of  defending  Western  Germany 
against  France,  and  asked  Frederic  only  for  the  loan  of 
a  general.  The  general  selected  was  Prince  Ferdinand 
of  Brunswick,  who  had  attained  high  distinction  in  the 
Prussian  service.  He  was  put  at  the  head  of  an  army, 
partly   English,   partly   Hanoverian,   partly   composed   of 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  491 

mercenaries  hired  from  the  petty  princes  of  the  empire. 
He  soon  vindicated  the  choice  of  the  two  allied  courts,  and 
proved  himself  the  second  general  of  the  age. 

Frederic  passed  the  winter  at  Breslau,  in  reading,  writ- 
ing, and  preparing  for  the  next  campaign.  The  havoc 
which  the  war  had  made  among  his  troops  was  rapidly 
repaired;  and  in  the  spring  of  1758  he  was  again  ready 
for  the  conflict.  Prince  Ferdinand  kept  the  French  in 
check.  The  King,  in  the  mean  time,  after  attempting 
against  the  Austrians  some  operations  which  led  to  no 
very  important  result,  marched  to  encounter  the  Russians, 
who,  slaying,  burning,  and  wasting  wherever  they  turned, 
had  penetrated  into  the  heart  of  his  realm.  He  gave 
them  battle  at  Zorndorf,  near  Frankfort  on  the  Oder. 
The  fight  was  long  and  bloody.  Quarter  was  neither 
given  nor  taken ;  for  the  Germans  and  Scythians  re- 
garded each  other  with  bitter  aversion,  and  the  sight 
of  the  ravages  committed  by  the  half  savage  invaders 
had  incensed  the  King  and  his  army.  The  Russians 
were  overthrown  with  great  slaughter;  and  for  a  few 
months  no  further  danger  was  to  be  apprehended  from 
the  East. 

A  day  of  thanksgiving  was  proclaimed  by  the  King, 
and  was  celebrated  with  pride  and  delight  by  his  people. 
The  rejoicings  in  England  were  not  less  enthusiastic  or 
Icps  sineero.  Tliis  may  be  selcft"d  as  the  point  of  time 
at  which  the  military  glory  of  Frederic  reached  the  zenith. 
In  the  short  Hi)a<'e  of  three  quarters  of  a  year  he  had  won 
three  great  battles  over  the  armies  of  three  miglity  and 
wiirlike  moruirfliies,  France,  Austria,  and  Russia. 

P>ut  it  was  decreed  that  the  temper  of  that  strong  mind 
should  be  tried  by  bf)tb  extremes  of  fortune  in  rapid  suc- 
cession. Close  upon  this  scri«'S  of  triumphs  came  a  series 
of  disasterfl,  such  as  would  have  blighted  the  fame  and 
broken  the  heart  of  almost  any  other  conuiiMnder.  Yet 
Frederic,  in  the  midst  of  bis  calamities,  was  still  an  object 
of  admiratioji  to  his  subjf-cts,  his  allies,  and  his  enemies. 
Overwhelmed  by  adversity,  sick  of  life,  he  still  main- 
tained the  cont^'st,  greater  in  defeat,  in  flight,  and  in 
what  seemed  hopeless  ruin,  tlian  on  the  fields  of  his 
proudest  victories. 

Having    vatif"'"  ^  ",]    t,i,(.    Russians,    he    hastened    into 


492  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

Saxony  to  oppose  the  troops  of  the  Empress  Queen,  com- 
manded by  Daun,  the  most  cautious,  and  Laudohn,  tlie 
most  inventive  and  enterprising  of  her  generals.  These 
two  celebrated  commanders  agreed  on  a  scheme,  in  which 
the  prudence  of  the  one  and  the  vigor  of  the  other  seem 
to  have  been  happily  combined.  At  dead  of  night  they 
surprised  the  King  in  his  camp  at  Hochkirchen.  His 
presence  of  mind  saved  his  troops  from  destruction;  but 
nothing  could  save  them  from  defeat  and  severe  loss. 
Marshal  Keith  was  among  the  slain.  The  first  roar  of 
the  guns  roused  the  noble  exile  from  his  rest,  and  he  was 
instantly  in  front  of  the  battle.  He  received  a  dangerous 
wound,  but  refused  to  quit  the  field,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
rallying  his  broken  troops,  when  an  Austrian  bullet 
terminated  his  checkered  and  eventful  life. 

The  misfortune  was  serious.  But  of  all  generals  Fred- 
eric understood  best  how  to  repair  defeat,  and  Daun 
understood  least  how  to  improve  victory.  In  a  few  days 
the  Prussian  army  was  as  formidable  as  before  the  battle. 
The  prospect  was,  however,  gloomy.  An  Austrian  army 
luider  General  Harsch  had  invaded  Silesia,  and  invested 
the  fortress  of  Neisse.  Daun,  after  his  success  at  Hoch- 
kircken,  had  written  to  Harsch  in  very  confident  terms: — 
"Go  on  with  your  operations  against  Neisse.  Be  quite  at 
ease  as  to  the  King.  I  will  give  a  good  account  of  him." 
In  truth,  the  position  of  the  Prussians  was  full  of  diffi- 
culties. Between  them  and  Silesia  lay  the  victorious 
army  of  Daun.  It  was  not  easy  for  them  to  reach  Silesia 
at  all.  If  they  did  reach  it,  they  left  Saxony  exposed  to 
the  Austrians.  But  the  vigor  and  activity  of  Frederic 
surmounted  every  obstacle.  He  made  a  circuitous  march 
of  extraordinary  rapidity,  passed  Daun,  hastened  into 
Silesia,  raised  the  siege  of  Neisse,  and  drove  Harsch  into 
Bohemia.  Daun  availefl  himself  of  the  King's  absence 
to  attack  Dresden.  The  Prussians  defended  it  desperately. 
The  inhabitants  of  that  wealthy  and  polished  capital 
begged  in  vain  for  mercy  from  the  garrison  within,  and 
from  the  besiegers  without.  The  beautiful  suburbs  were 
burned  to  the  ground.  It  was  clear  that  the  town,  if  won 
at  all,  would  be  won  street  by  street  by  the  bayonet.  At 
this  conjuncture  came  news,  that  Frederic,  having  cleared 
Silesia  of  his  enemies,  was  returning  by  forced  marches 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  493 

into  Saxony.  Daun  retired  from  before  Dresden,  and  fell 
back  into  the  Austrian  territories.  The  King:,  over  heaps 
of  ruins,  made  his  triumphant  entry  into  the  unhappy 
metropolis,  which  had  so  cruelly  expiated  the  weak  and 
perfidious  policy  of  its  sovereign.  It  was  now  the  twen- 
tieth of  November.  The  cold  weather  suspended  military 
operations;  and  the  King  again  took  up  his  winter  quar- 
ters at  Breslau. 

The  third  of  the  seven  terrible  years  was  over;  and 
Frederic  still  stood  his  ground.  He  had  been  recently 
tried  by  domestic  as  well  as  by  military  disasters.  On 
the  fourteenth  of  October,  the  day  on  which  he  was  de- 
feated at  Hochkirchen,  the  day  on  the  anniversary  of 
which,  forty-eight  years  later,  a  defeat  far  more  tremen- 
dous laid  the  Prussian  monarchy  in  the  dust,  died  Wil- 
helmina,  Margravine  of  Bareuth.  From  the  accounts 
which  we  have  of  her,  by  her  own  hand,  and  by  the  hands 
of  the  most  discerning  of  her  contemporaries,  we  should 
pronounce  her  to  have  been  coarse,  indelicate,  and  a  good 
hater,  but  not  destitute  of  kind  and  generous  feelings. 
Her  mind,  naturally  strong  and  observant,  had  been 
highly  cultivated ;  and  slie  was,  and  deserved  to  be,  Fred- 
eric's favorite  sister.  He  felt  the  loss  as  much  as  it  was 
in  his  iron  nature  to  feel  the  loss  of  anything  but  a 
province  or  a  battle. 

At  Breslau,  during  the  winter,  he  was  indefatigable  in 
his  poetical  labors.  The  most  spirited  lines,  perhaps,  that 
he  ever  wrote,  are  to  be  found  in  a  bitter  lampoon  on 
Louis  and  Madame  de  Pampaflour,  which  he  composed  at 
this  time,  and  sent  to  Voltaire.  The  verses  were,  indeed, 
80  good,  that  Voltaire  was  afraid  that  he  might  himself 
be  suspected  of  having  written  them,  or  at  least  of  having 
corrected  them;  anrl  partly  from  friglit.  j)a.rtly,  w(^  fear, 
from  love  of  mischief,  sent  them  to  the  Duke  of  Clioiseul, 
then  prime  minister  of  France.  Choiseul  very  wisely 
determined  to  encounter  Frederic  at  Frederic's  own 
weapons,  and  applii-d  ff)r  asnistance  of  I'alissot,  who  had 
some  skill  as  a  versifier,  and  some  little  talent  for  satire. 
Palissot  produced  some  very  stinging  lines  on  the  moral 
and  literary  character  of  Frederic,  ancl  theH(>  lines  the 
Duke  sent  to  Voltaire.  This  war  of  couplets,  following 
close  on   the  carnage  of  Zorndorf  and   the  conflagration 


494  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  Dresden,    illustrates    well   the   strangely    compounded 
character  of  the  King  of  Prussia. 

At  this  moment  he  was  assailed  by  a  new  enemy. 
Benedict  the  Fourteenth,  the  best  and  wisest  of  the  two 
hundred  and  fifty  successors  of  St.  Peter,  was  no  more. 
During  the  short  interval  between  his  reign  and  that  of 
his  disciple  Ganganelli,  the  chief  seat  in  the  Church  of 
Rome  was  filled  by  Rezzonico,  who  took  the  name  of 
Clement  the  Thirteenth.  This  absurd  priest  determined 
to  tr>'  what  the  weight  of  his  authority  could  etiect  in 
favor  of  the  orthodox  Maria  Theresa  against  a  heretic 
king.  At  the  high  mass  on  Christmas-day,  a  sword  with 
a  rich  belt  and  scabbard,  a  hat  of  crimson  velvet  lined 
with  ermine,  and  a  dove  of  pearls,  the  mystic  symbol  of 
the  Divine  Comforter,  were  solemnly  blessed  by  the  su- 
preme pontifP,  and  were  sent  with  great  ceremony  to 
Marshal  Daun,  the  conqueror  of  Kolin  and  Hochkirchin. 
This  mark  of  favor  had  more  than  once  been  bestowed 
by  the  Popes  on  the  great  champions  of  the  faith.  Similar 
honors  had  been  paid,  more  than  six  centuries  earlier,  by 
Urban  the  Second  to  Godfrey  of  Bouillon.*  Similar 
honors  had  been  conferred  on  Alva  f  for  destroying  the 
liberties  of  the  Low  Countries,  and  on  John  Sobiesky  J 
after  the  deliverance  of  Vienna.  But  the  presents  which 
were  received  with  profound  reverence  by  the  Baron  of 
the  Holy  Sepulchre  in  the  eleventh  century,  and  which 
had  not  wholly  lost  their  value  even  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  appeared  inexpressibly  ridiculous  to  a  generation 
which  read  Montesquieu  and  Voltaire.  Frederic  wrote 
sarcastic  verses  on  the  gifts,  the  giver,  and  the  receiver. 
But  the  public  wanted  no  prompter;  and  an  universal 
roar  of  laughter  from  Petersburg  to  Lisbon  reminded  the 
Vatican  that  the  age  of  crusades  was  over. 

The  fourth  campaign,  the  most  disastrous  of  all  the 
campaigns  of  this  fearful  war,  had  now  opened.  The 
Austrians  filled  Saxony  and  menaced  Berlin.  The  Rus- 
sians defeated  the  King's  generals  on  the  Oder,  threat- 

•  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  was  the  leader  of  the  first  Crusade  in  1110. 
He  defeated  the  Sultan  of  Egypt  on  the  plain  of  Ascalon,  in  1099, 
and   completed  the   conquest  of  the   Holy   Land. 

t  The  Duke  of  Alva  was  a  Spanish  general,  and  a  notoriously 
cruel  governor  of  the  Netherlands  in  the  16th  century. 

t  John  III,  Sobieski,  led  an  army  of  Poles  to  the  relief  of  Vienna. 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  495 

ened  Silesia,  eflFected  a  junction  with  Laudohn,  and  in- 
trenched themselves  strongly  at  Kunersdorf.  Frederic 
hastened  to  attack  them.  A  great  battle  was  fought. 
During  the  earlier  part  of  the  day  everything  yielded  to 
the  impetuosity  of  the  Prussians,  and  to  the  skill  of  their 
chief.  The  lines  were  forced.  Half  the  Russian  guns 
were  taken.  The  King  sent  ofF  a  courier  to  Berlin  with 
two  lines,  announcing  a  complete  victory.  But,  in  the 
mean  time,  the  stubborn  Russians,  defeated  yet  unbroken, 
had  taken  up  their  stand  in  an  almost  impregnable  posi- 
tion, on  an  eminence  where  the  Jews  of  Frankfort  were 
wont  to  bury  their  dead.  Here  the  battle  recommenced. 
The  Prussian  infantry,  exhausted  by  six  hours  of  hard 
fighting  under  a  sun  which  equaled  the  tropical  heat, 
were  yet  brought  up  repeatedly  to  the  attack,  but  in 
vain.  The  King  led  three  charges  in  person.  Two  horses 
were  killed  under  him.  The  officers  of  his  staff  fell  all 
round  him.  His  coat  was  pierced  by  several  bullets.  All 
was  in  vain.  His  infantry  wa^  driven  back  with  frightful 
slaughter.  Terror  began  to  spread  fast  from  man  to  man. 
At  that  moment,  the  fiery  cavalry  of  Laudcdm,  still  fresh, 
rushed  on  the  wavering  ranks.  Then  followed  an  uni- 
versal rout.  Frederic  himself  was  on  the  point  of  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  concjuerors,  and  was  with  difficulty 
saved  by  a  gallant  officer,  who,  at  the  head  of  a  handful 
of  Hussars,  made  good  a  diversion  of  a  few  minutes. 
Shattered  in  body,  shattered  in  mind,  the  King  reached 
that  night  a  village  which  the  Cossacks  had  plundered; 
and  there,  in  a  ruined  and  deserted  farm-house,  flung 
himself  on  a  heap  of  straw.  He  had  s(>nt  to  Berlin  a 
second  despateli  very  different  finm  his  first: — "Let  the 
royal  family  leave  TWlin.  Send  tlie  archives  to  Potsdam. 
The  town   may  make  terms  with  the  enemy." 

The  tlefeat  was,  in  truth,  overwhelming.  Of  fifty  thou- 
sand men  who  had  that  morning  marched  under  the  black 
eagles,  not  thn-e  thousand  remained  together.  The  King 
bethought  him  again  of  his  corrosive  sublimate,  and  wrote 
to  bid  adieu  to  his  friends,  and  to  give  directions  as  to 
the  measures  to  be  taken  in  the  event  of  his  death: — "I 
have  no  resource  left" — such  is  the  language  of  one  of 
his  letters — "all  is  lost.  I  will  not  survive  the  ruin  of 
my  country.    Farewell  forever." 


496  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

But  the  mutual  jealousies  of  the  confederates  prevented 
them  from  followiiifr  up  their  victory.  They  lost  a  few 
days  in  loitering  and  squabbling;  and  a  few  days,  im- 
proved by  Frederic,  were  worth  more  than  the  years  of 
other  men.  On  the  morning  after  the  battle,  he  had  got 
together  eighteen  thousand  of  his  troops.  Very  soon  his 
force  amounted  to  thirty  thousand.  (Juns  were  procured 
from  the  neighboring  fortresses ;  and  there  was  again  an 
army.  Berlin  was  for  the  present  safe;  but  calamities 
came  pouring  on  the  King  in  uninterrupted  succession. 
One  of  his  generals,  with  a  large  body  of  troops,  was 
taken  at  Maxen ;  another  was  defeated  at  Meissen ;  and 
when  at  length  the  campaign  of  1759  closed,  in  the  midst 
of  a  rigorous  winter,  the  situation  of  Prussia  appeared 
desperate.  The  only  consoling  circumstance  was,  that, 
in  the  West,  Ferdinand  of  Brunswick  had  been  more 
fortunate  than  his  master ;  and  by  a  series  of  exploits,  of 
which  the  battle  of  Minden  was  the  most  glorious,  had 
removed  all  apprehension  of  danger  on  the  side  of  France. 

The  fifth  year  was  now  about  to  commence.  It  seemed 
impossible  tluit  the  Prussian  territories,  repeatedly  devas- 
tated by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  invaders,  could  longer 
support  the  contest.  But  the  King  carried  on  war  as  no 
European  power  has  ever  carried  on  war,  except  the  Com- 
mittee of  Public  Safety  during  the  great  agony  of  the 
French  Revolution.  He  governed  his  kingdom  as  he 
would  have  governed  a  besieged  town,  not  caring  to  what 
extent  property  was  destroyed,  or  the  pursuits  of  civil  life 
suspended,  so  that  he  did  but  mak(^  head  against  the 
enemy.  As  long  as  there  was  a  nuin  left  in  Prussia,  that 
man  might  carry  a  musket ;  as  long  as  there  was  a  horse 
left,  that  horse  might  draw  artillery.  The  coin  was  de- 
based, the  civil  functionaries  were  left  unpaid ;  in  some 
provinces  civil  government  altogether  ceased  to  exist. 
But  there  were  still  ryp-brcad  and  potatoes;  there  were 
still  lead  and  gunpowder;  and,  while  the  means  of  sus- 
taining and  destroying  life  remained,  Frederic  was  de- 
termined to  fight  it  out  to  the  very  last. 

The  earlier  part  of  the  campaign  of  1760  was  unfavor- 
able to  him.  Berlin  was  again  occupied  by  the  enemy. 
Great  contributions  were  levied  on  the  inhabitants,  and 
the  royal  palace  was  plundered.    But  at  length,  after  two 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  497 

years  of  calamity,  victory  came  back  to  his  arms.  At 
Lignitz  he  gained  a  great  battle  over  Laudohn;  at  Torga, 
after  a  day  of  horrible  carnage,  he  triumphed  over  Daun. 
The  fifth  year  closed,  and  still  the  event  was  in  svispense. 
In  the  countries  where  the  war  had  raged,  the  misery  and 
exhaustion  were  more  appalling  than  ever;  but  still  there 
were  left  men  and  beasts,  arms  and  food,  and  still  Fred- 
eric fought  on.  In  truth  he  had  now  been  baited  into 
savageness.  His  heart  was  ulcerated  with  hatred.  The 
implacable  resentment  with  which  his  enemies  persecuted 
him,  though  originally  provoked  by  his  own  unprincipled 
ambition,  excited  in  him  a  thirst  for  vengeance  which  he 
did  not  even  attempt  to  conceal.  "It  is  hard,"  he  says  in 
one  of  his  letters,  "for  man  to  bear  what  I  bear.  I  begin 
to  feel  that,  as  the  Italians  say,  revenge  is  a  pleasure  for 
the  gods.  My  philosoi)hy  is  worn  out  by  suffering.  I  am 
no  saint,  like  those  of  whom  we  read  in  the  legends;  and 
I  will  own  that  1  should  die  content  if  only  I  could  first 
inflicrt  a  portion  of  the  misery  which  I  endure." 

Borne  \\\>  by  such  feelings,  he  struggled  with  various 
success,  but  constant  glory,  through  the  caniiJaign  of  17()1. 
O.i  the  whole,  th"  result  of  this  campaign  was  disastrous 
to  Prussia.  No  great  battle  was  gained  by  the  enemy; 
but,  in  spite  of  the  desix-ratc  l)ounds  of  the  hunted  tiger, 
the  circle  of  pursuers  was  fast  closing  round  him. 
Laudolni  hiid  surprised  the  iinportiUit  fortress  of  Schweid- 
nitz.  W'itli  tluit  fortress,  half  of  Silesia,  and  the  com- 
mand of  the  most  imi)ortant  defiles  through  the  moun- 
tains, had  been  transferred  to  the  Austrinns.  The  Rus- 
sians had  f»ver])ovvere(l  the  King's  generals  in  I'ouierania. 
The  country  was  so  completely  desolated  that  he  began, 
by  his  r)wii  eonfessiou,  to  look  round  him  with  blank 
despair,  unable  to  imagine  where  reeruits,  horses,  or  pro- 
visions were  to  be  found. 

Just  at  this  time  two  great  events  i)rouglit  on  a  eoni- 
I)letc  change  in  tlie  relations  of  almost  all  tlie  ii(»wers  of 
Europe.  One  of  those  events  was  the  retirement  of  Mr.. 
Pitt  from  oflfiee;  the  other  was  the  death  of  the  Empress. 
Elizabeth    of   Russia. 

The  retirement  of  Pitt  seemed  to  l)e  an  omen  of  utter 
ruin  to  the  house  of  I?r!ideTil)urg.  His  proud  nnd  ve- 
hement nature  was  incapable  of  anything  that  looked  like 


498  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

either  fear  or  treachery,  lie  had  often  declared  that, 
while  he  was  in  power,  England  should  never  make  a 
peace  of  Utrecht,  should  never,  for  any  selfish  object, 
abandon  an  ally  even  in  the  last  extremity  of  distress. 
The  Continental  war  was  his  own  war.  He  had  been 
bold  enoufjh,  he  who  in  former  times  had  attacked,  with 
irresistible  powers  of  oratory,  the  Hanoverian  policy  of 
Ca'^teret,  and  the  German  subsidies  of  Newcastle,  to  de- 
clare that  Hanover  ought  to  be  as  dear  to  us  as  Hamp- 
shire, ajid  that  he  would  conquer  America  in  Germany. 
He  had  fallen ;  and  the  power  which  he  had  exercised 
not  always  with  discretion,  but  always  with  vigor  and 
genius,  had  devolved  on  a  favorite  who  was  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  Tory  party,  of  the  party  which  had 
thwarted  William,  which  had  persecuted  Marlborough, 
and  which  had  given  up  the  Catalans  to  the  vengeance 
of  Philip  of  Anjou.  To  make  peace  with  France,  to  shake 
off,  with  all,  or  more  than  all,  the  speed  compatible  with 
decency,  every  Continental  connection,  these  were  among 
the  chief  objects  of  the  new  Minister.  The  policy  then 
followed  inspired  Frederic  with  an  unjust,  but  deep  and 
bitter  aversion  to  the  English  name,  and  produced  eifects 
which  are  still  felt  throughout  the  civilized  world.  To 
that  policy  it  was  owing  that,  some  years  later,  England 
could  not  find  on  the  whole  Continent  a  single  ally  to 
stand  by  her,  in  her  extreme  need,  against  the  House  of 
Bourbon.  To  that  policy  it  was  owing  that  Frederic, 
alienated  from  England,  was  compelled  to  connect  himself 
closely,  during  his  later  years,  with  Russia,  and  was  in- 
duced to  assist  in  that  great  criinc,  the  fruitful  parent  of 
other  great  crimes,  the  first  partition  of  Poland. 

Scarcely  had  the  retreat  of  Mr.  Pitt  deprived  Prussia 
of  her  only  friend,  when  the  death  of  Elizabeth  produced 
an  entire  revolution  in  the  politics  of  the  North.  The 
Grand  Duke  Peter,  her  nejihew,  who  now  ascended  the 
Russian  throne,  was  not  merely  free  from  the  prejudices 
which  his  aunt  had  entertained  against  Frederic,  but  was 
a  worshiper,  a  servile  imitator  of  the  great  King.  The 
days  of  the  new  Czar's  government  were  few  and  evil,  but 
sufficient  to  produce  a  change  in  the  whole  state  of 
Christendom.  He  set  the  Prussian  prisoners  at  liberty, 
fitted   them   out   decently,   and   sent   them   back  to  their 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  499 

master;  he  withdrew  his  troops  from  the  provinces  which 
Elizabeth  had  decided  on  incorporating  with  her  domin- 
ions ;  and  he  absolved  all  those  Prussian  subjects,  who  had 
been  compelled  to  swear  fealty  to  Russia,  from  their 
engagements. 

Not  content  with  concluding  peace  on  terms  favorable 
to  Prussia,  he  solicited  rank  in  the  Prussian  service, 
dressed  himself  in  a  Prussian  uniform,  wore  the  Black 
Eagle  of  Prussia  on  his  breast,  made  preparations  for 
vi;;iting  Prussia,  in  order  to  have  an  interview  with  the 
oV)ject  of  his  idolatry,  and  actually  sent  iifteen  thousand 
excellent  troops  to  reinforce  the  shattered  army  of  Fred- 
eric. Thus  strengthened,  the  King  speedily  repaired  the 
losses  of  the  preceding  year,  reconquered  Silesia,  defeated 
Daun  at  Buckersdorf.  invested  and  retook  Schweidnitz, 
and,  at  the  close  of  the  year,  presented  to  the  forces  of 
Maria  Theresa  a  front  as  formidable  as  before  the  great 
reverses  of  1759.  Before  the  end  of  the  campaign,  his 
friend  the  Emperor  Peter,  having,  by  a  series  of  absurd 
insults  to  the  institutions,  manners,  and  feelings  of  his 
people,  unitfvl  them  in  hostility  to  his  person  and  govern- 
ment, was  deposed  and  murdered.  The  Empress,  who, 
under  the  title  of  Catharine  the  Second,  now  assumed  the 
suftrenie  power,  was,  at  the  commencement  of  her  admin- 
istration, by  no  means  psirtial  to  Frederic,  and  refused 
to  permit  her  troops  to  remain  under  his  command.  B\it 
she  observed  the  peace  made  by  her  husl>and ;  and  I'russia 
was  no  longer  threatened  by  danger  from  the  East. 

England  and  France  at  th(!  same  time  paired  off  to- 
gether. They  {•onchided  a  treaty,  by  which  they  bound 
them.selves  to  ol)serve  neutrality  with  respect  to  the  (Jer- 
man  war.  Thus  the  coalitions  on  both  sides  were  dis- 
solved; and  tbe  original  enemies,  Austria  and  Prussia, 
remained    alone  confronting  each   other. 

Austria  had  undoubtedly  far  gre:iter  means  tlian  Prus- 
sia, and  was  less  exhausterl  by  bostilities;  yet  it  seemed 
hardly  pos8il)l(f  that  Austria  could  effeet  alone  what  she 
had  in  vain  attempted  to  effect  when  supported  by  France 
on  the  one  side,  and  liy  Russia  on  tlie  other.  Danger  also 
began  to  menace  the  Imperial  house  from  another  quarter. 
Tlie  Ottoman  I'orte  held  threatening  language,  and  a 
hundred  thousand  Turks  were  mustered  on  the  frontiers 


500  HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 

of  Hungary.  The  proud  and  revengeful  spirit  of  the 
Empress  Queen  at  length  gave  way;  and,  in  February, 
1763,  the  peaee  of  Hubertsburg  put  an  end  to  the  contlict 
Avhich  had,  durirg  seven  years,  devastated  Germany.  The 
King  ceded  nothing.  The  whole  Continent  in  arms  had 
proved  unable  to  tear  Silesia  from  that  iron  grasp. 

The  war  w^as  over.  Frederic  was  safe.  His  glory  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  envy.  If  he  had  not  made  conquests 
as  vast  as  those  of  Alexander,  of  CjBsar,  and  of  Napoleon, 
if  he  had  not,  on  fields  of  battle,  enjoyed  the  constant  suc- 
cess of  Marlborough  and  Wellington,  he  had  yet  given 
an  example  unrivaled  in  history  of  what  capacity  and 
resolution  can  effect  against  the  greatest  superiority  of 
power  and  the  utmost  spite  of  fortune.  He  entered 
Berlin  in  triumph,  after  an  absence  of  more  than  six 
years.  The  streets  were  brilliantly  lighted  up;  and,  as  he 
passed  along  in  an  open  carriage,  with  Ferdinand  of 
Brunswick  at  his  side,  the  multitude  saluted  him  with 
loud  i)raises  and  blessings.  He  was  moved  by  those 
marks  of  attachment,  and  repeatedly  exclaimed,  "Long 
live  my  dear  people!  Long  live  my  children !"  Yet,  even 
in  the  midst  of  that  gay  spectacle,  he  could  not  but  per- 
ceive everywhere  the  traces  of  destruction  and  decay. 
The  city  had  been  more  than  once  plundered.  The  popu- 
lation had  considerably  diminished.  Berlin,  however,  had 
suffered  little  when  compared  with  most  parts  of  the 
kingdom.  The  ruin  of  private  fortunes,  the  distress  of 
all  ranks,  was  such  as  might  appal  the  firmest  mind. 
Almost  every  province  had  been  the  seat  of  war,  and  of 
war  conducted  with  merciless  ferocity.  Clouds  of 
Croatians  had  descended  on  Silesia.  Tens  of  thousands 
of  Cossacks  had  lieen  let  loose  on  Pomerania  and 
Brandenburg.  The  mere  contributions  levied  by  the  in- 
vaders amounted,  it  was  said,  to  more  than  a  hundred 
millions  of  dollars;  and  the  value  of  what  they  extorted, 
was  probably  much  less  than  the  value  of  what  they  de- 
stroyed. The  fields  lay  uncultivated.  The  very  seed  corn 
had  been  devoured  in  the  madness  of  hunger.  Famine 
and  contagious  maladies  produced  by  famine,  had  swept 
away  the  herds  and  flocks;  and  there  was  reason  to  fear 
that  a  great  pestilence  among  the  human  race  was  likely 
to   follow   in   the   train   of  that   tremendous   war.     Near 


I 


FREDERIC  THE  GREAT  501 

fifteen  thousand  houses  had  been  burned  to  the  ground. 
The  population  of  the  kingdom  had  in  seven  years  de- 
creased to  the  frightful  extent  of  ten  per  cent.  A  sixth 
of  the  males  capable  of  bearing  arms  had  actually  per- 
ished on  the  field  of  battle.  In  some  districts,  no  laborers, 
except  women,  were  seen  in  the  fields  at  han'est-time. 
In  others,  the  traveler  passed  shuddering  through  a  suc- 
cession of  silent  villages,  in  which  not  a  single  inhabitant 
remained.  The  currency  had  been  debased;  the  authority 
of  laws  and  magistrates  had  been  suspended;  the  whole 
social  system  was  deranged.  For,  during  that  convulsive 
struggle,  everything  that  was  not  military  violence  was 
anarchy.  Even  the  army  was  disorganized.  Some  great 
generals,  and  a  crowd  of  excellent  officers,  had  fallen,  and 
it  had  been  impossible  to  sui)ply  their  places.  The  diffi- 
culty of  finding  recruits  had,  towards  the  close  of  the 
war,  been  so  great,  that  selection  and  rejection  were  im- 
possible. Whole  battalions  were  composed  of  deserters  or 
of  prisoners.  It  was  hardly  to  be  hoped  that  thirty  years 
of  repose  and  industry  would  repair  the  ruin  produced  by 
seven  years  of  havoc.  One  consolatory  circumstance, 
indeed,  there  was.  Xo  debt  had  been  incurred.  The 
burdens  of  the  war  had  b(>en  terrible,  almost  insupport- 
able; but  no  arrear  was  left  to  embarrass  the  finances  in 
time  of  peace. 

Here,  for  the  present,  we  must  pause.  We  have  ac- 
companied Frederic  to  the  close  of  his  career  as  a  warrior. 
Possibly,  when  these  Memoirs  are  completed,  we  may 
resume  the  t-onsideration  of  his  character,  and  give  some 
account  of  his  domestic  and  foreign  i)olicy,  and  of  his 
private  habits,  during  the  many  years  of  tranquillity 
which  followed  the  Seven  Years'  War. 


THE  MODERN 
STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

Each  volume  edited  with  an  introduction  by  a  leading 
American  authority 


This  series  is  composed  of  such  works  as  are  conspicuous  in  the 
province  of  literature  for  their  enduring  influence.  Every  volume 
is  recognized  as  essential  to  a  liberal  education  and  will  tend  to  in- 
fuse a  love  for  true  literature  and  an  appreciation  of  the  qualities 
which  cause  it  to  endure. 


A  WEEK  OX  THE  CONCORD  AND 

MEKRLMAC  RIVERS 

By  IIexry  David  Tiioreau 

With  an  Introduction  by 
ODELL  SIIEPARD 

Professor  of  English  at  Trinily  College 

".  .  .  Here  was  .-i  man  who  stood  with  liis  head  in  tlic  eh  uds, 
perhaps,  but  with  liis  feet  firmly  j)l.iiitc(l  on  riilil)l('  and  gril.  lie 
wa«  true  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home.  Thoreau's 
f-minently  iiracticul  tlionglit  w;is  really  eoneeriied,  in  llie  last  anal- 
ysis witli  definite  linnuiri  ])roliieins.  Tlie  major  (lueslion  how  to  live 
waa  at  the  end  of  all  his  vista«." 

EA PERSON'S  ESSAYS 

Selected  and  erjited.  with  an  Introduction,  by 
ARTHIK  IIOIJSON  Ql  I.NN 

Profnwor  of  KtiKlinti  ami  l)iiiii  nf  tin-  Collcgf  I'nivcrsity  of 
I't'iirisylviiniii 

"Among  the  shifting  values  in  our  literary  history.  Emerson  sffm<ls 
s<Ture.  .\Ha  peo|(le  we  are  ratlier  prone  In  wnileresliiMale  our  iiati\(^ 
writers  in  relation  to  Englisli  and  continental  authors,  but  e\en 
among  those  who  h.-ive  been  eonteiit  to  treat  our  lileratnre  as  a  liy- 
j)r<)duet  of  Hritisli  letters,  Emersoirs  significance  has  become  only 
more  apparent  with  time." 


THE  MODERN  STUDENT'S  LIBRARY 

THE  ESSAYS  OF 
ADDISON  AND  STEELE 

Selected  and  edited  by 
WILL  D.  HOWE 

Professor  of  English  at  Indiana  University 

With  the  writings  of  these  two  remarkable  essayists  modem  prose 
began.  It  is  not  merely  that  their  style  e%'en  to-day,  after  two  cen- 
turies, commands  attention,  it  is  equally  noteworthy  that  these 
men  were  among  the  first  to  show  the  possibilities  of  our  language 
in  developing  a  reading  public. 

BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN  AND 
JONATHAN  EDWARDS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
CARL  VAN  DOREN 

Franklin  and  Edwards  often  sharply  contrasted  in  thought  are, 
however,  in  the  main,  complimentary  to  each  other.  In  religion, 
Franklin  was  the  utilitarian,  Edwards  the  mystic.  Franklin  was 
more  interested  in  practical  morality  than  in  revelation;  Edwards 
sought  a  spiritual  exaltation  in  religious  ecstasy.  In  science  Frank- 
lin was  the  practical  experimenter,  Edwards  the  detached  observer, 
the  theoretical  investigator  of  causes. 

THE 
HEART  OF  MIDLOTHIAN 

By  Sir  Walter  Scott 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  P.  TRENT 

Professor  of  English  at  Columbia  University 

Universally  admitted  one  of  the  world's  greatest  story-tellers, 
Scott  him-self  considered  "The  Heart  of  Midlothian"  his  master- 
piece, and  it  has  been  accepted  as  such  by  most  of  his  admirers. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 

THE   ORDEAL  OF 

RICHARD   FEVEREL 

By  George  Meredith 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FRANK  W.  CHANDLER 

Professor  of  English  at  the  University  of  Cincinnati 

"Tlie  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel,"  published  in  1859,  was  Mere- 
dith's first  modern  novel  and  probably  his  best.  Certainly  it  was, 
and  has  remained,  the  most  generally  popular  of  all  this  author's 
books  and  anions  the  works  of  its  type  it  stands  pre-eminent.  The 
story  cmlxxiies  in  tlie  most  beautiful  form  the  idea  that  in  life  the 
whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth  is  best. 

MEREDITH'S 
ESSAY  OX  COMEDY 

With  an  Introduction,  Notes,  ami  Biographical  Sketch  by 
LANK  COOPER 

Professor  of  KiiKlish  at  (^'oriii'll  University 

"Good  comedies."  Mcroflith  tells  us,  "are  such  rare  i)r<MJu(lii)ns 
that,  notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  (iiir  literature  in  the  comic 
element,  it  would  not  occiipy  us  long  to  run  over  the  English  list." 

The  "  Essiiy  on  Comedy  "  is  in  a  peculiarly  itiliiiiate  way  the  ex- 
position of  Meredith's  attitude  toward  lif<'  and  art.  It  helps  us  to 
understand  more  adefjuately  th-  subtle  delicacies  of  his  novels. 

CRITK  AL    ESSAYS   OF   THE 
MXETEEXTH   CEXTURY 

Selected  and  edited,  with  an  Tntrodiution,  by 
RAYMOND  M.  ALDKN 

Profeator  of  Knglitb  at  Leland  Stanford  Univcmity 

The  cMsays  in  thi**  volnmf  include  those  of  Word'^worlli,  f '(►f)li"ston, 
.lefTrey,  Seotl.  ( dicridge,  I^xkliarl.  I,;imb,  Ha/.lilt,  Hyron,  Shelley, 
Newman,  Dei^uincey,  Macaulay,  Wilson,  and  Hunt. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 

ENGLISH  POETS  OF  THE 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

Selected  and  Edited  by 
ERNEST  BERNBAUM 

Professor  of  EDglish  at  the  University  of  Illinois 

The  great  age  of  the  eighteenth  century  is,  more  than  any  other, 
perhaps,  mirrored  in  its  poetry,  and  this  anthology  reveals  its  man- 
ners and  ideals. 

While  the  text  of  the  various  poems  is  authentic,  it  is  not  bur- 
dened with  scholastic  editing  an<l  marginal  comment.  The  collec- 
tion and  its  form  is  one  which  satisfies  in  an  unusual  way  the  in- 
terest of  the  general  reader  as  well  as  that  of  the  specialist. 

PILGRIM'S  PROGRESS 
By  John  Bunyan 

With  an  Introduction  and  Notes  by 
DR.  S.  M.  CROTHERS 

This  book  is  one  of  the  most  vivid  and  entertaining  in  the  English 
language,  one  that  has  been  read  more  than  any  other  in  our  lan- 
guage, except  the  Bible. 

PRIDE  AND  PREJUDICE 
By  Jane  Austen 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS 

To  have  this  masterpiece  of  realistic  literature  introduced  by  so 
eminent  a  critic  as  William  Dean  Ilowells  is,  in  itself,  an  event  in 
the  literary  world.  We  cannot  better  comment  upon  the  edition 
than  by  quoting  from  Mr.  Howells's  introduction: 

He  says:  "When  I  came  to  read  the  book  the  tenth  or  fifteenth 
time  for  the  purposes  of  this  introduction,  I  found  it  as  fresh  as  when 
I  read  it  first  in  1889,  after  long  .shying  off  from  it." 


THE  MODERN  STCDEXTS  LIBRARY 

NINETEENTH  CENTURY 
LETTERS 

Selected  and  Edited  by 
BYROX  JOHNSON  REES 

Professor  of  English  at  Williams  College 

Contains  letters  from  William  Blake,  William  Wordsworth, 
Sydney  Smith,  Robert  Southey,  Charles  Lamb,  Washington  Irving, 
Benjamin  Rotx-rt  Haydon,  John  Keats,  Jane  Welsh  Carlyle,  Ralph 
Waldo  P>merson,  John  Sterling,  Abraham  Lincoln,  William  INLake- 
peace  Thackeray,  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  ^Lltthew  Arnold, 
Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  (ieorge  Meredith,  "Lewis  Carroll,"  Phillips 
Brooks,  Sidney  Lanier,  and  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

PAST  AND  PRESENT 
By  Tho>l\s  Carlyle 

With  an  Introduction  by 
EDWIN  W.  MI  MS 

Professor  of  Knglisli  jil  Vuniierbill  University 

"Past  and  Present,"  written  in  1843,  when  the  industrial  revolu- 
tions had  just  tiik«'n  place  in  England  and  when  democracy  and 
fre<'<loni  were  the  watchwords  of  liberals  and  progressives,  reads  like 
a  contemporary  vobime  on  industrial  and  social  proijlems. 

I5()S\VKLI;S 
LIFE  OF  JOIIXSOX 

Abridged  and  edited,  with  an  Introdiietion  and  Notes,  by 

CHARLKS  (i.  0S(.0()1> 
ProfcMor  of  Kiitfliah  at  Princeton  University 

Boswell  has  created  one  of  the  great  masterpieces  of  the  world. 

Seldom  lias  an  aliridgmeiit  been  made  with  as  great  skill  in  omit- 
ting nothing  vital  and  ktvping  proi)er  ])roportions  u.s  this  edition  by 
Professor  Osgood. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 


BACON'S  ESSAYS 

Selected,  with  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by 
MARY  AUGUSTA  SCOTT 

Late  Professor  of  English  Literature  at  Smitli  College 

These  essays,  the  distilled  wisdom  of  a  great  observer  upon  the 
affairs  of  common  life,  are  of  endless  interest  and  profit.  The  more 
one  reads  them  the  more  remarkable  seem  their  compactness  and 
their  vitality. 


ADAM  BEDE 

By  George  Eliot 

With  an  Introduction  by 
LAURA  J.  WYLIE 

Professor  of  English  at  Vassar  College 

With  the  publication  of  "Adam  Bede"  in  18.59,  it  was  evident 
both  to  England  and  America  that  a  great  novelist  had  appeared. 
"Adam  Bede"  is  the  most  natural  of  (ieorge  Eliot's  books,  simple 
in  problem,  direct  in  action,  with  the  freshness  and  strength  of.  the 
Derbyshire  landscape  and  character  and  speech  in  its  pages. 


THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 
By  Robert  Browning 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FREDERICK  MOIKJAN  PADELFORD 

Professor  of  English  at  Washington  University 

"  'The  Ring  and  the  Book,'  "  .says  Dr.  Padelford  in  his  introduc- 
tion, "is  Browning's  supreme  literary  achievement.  It  was  written 
after  the  poet  had  attained  complete  mastery  of  his  very  individual 
style;  it  absf>rl>cd  his  creative  activity  for  a  prolonged  period;  and  it 
issued  with  the  stamp  of  his  characteristic  genius  on  every  page." 


THE  MODERN  STUDEXT'S  LIBRARY 

ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON'S 
ESSAYS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
WILLIAM  LYOX  PHELPS 

Professor  of  English  at  Yale  University 

This  volume  includes  not  only  essays  in  formal  literary  criticism, 
but  also  of  personal  monologue  and  gossip,  as  well  as  philosophical 
essays  on  the  greatest  themes  that  can  occupy  the  mind  of  man.  All 
reveal  the  complex,  whimsical,  humorous,  romantic,  imaginative, 
puritanical  personality  now  known  everywhere  by  the  formula 
R.  L.  S. 

PENDENNIS 
By  Thackeray 

With  an  Introduction  by 

ROBKUT  MOKSS  LOVETT 
Professor  of  Englisb  ut  the  Uoiversity  of  Chicago 

"Pendennis"  stands  as  a  great  representative  of  biographical 
fiction  and  reflects  more  of  tlic  <lctails  of  Thackeray's  life  than  ail 
hi^  other  writings.  Of  its  kind  there  is  probably  no  more  interesting 
book  in  our  literature. 

THE 

RETURN  OF  THE  NATIVE 

By  Thomas  Hahdy 

With  an  Iiitrciduction  and  Notes  by 
JOHN  W.  CTNLIFF'E 

Profemor  of  Kii((liiih  at  Columliia  rnivcr»ily 

"The  Return  of  the  Native"  is  probably  Thomas  Hardy's  great 
tragic  ma.stcr])iecc.  It  carries  tr)  the  highest  perfection  tlic  rare 
genius  jif  the  finished  writer.  It  presents  in  the  most  n-inarkable 
way  Hardy '.s  interyiretation  of  nature  in  which  there  is  a  perfect 
unison  between  the  physical  world  and  the  human  character. 


THE  MODERN  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 

SELECTIONS  FROM 
"THE  FEDERALIST" 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
JOHN  SPENCER  BASSETT 

Professor  of  History  in  Smith  College 

A  careful  and  discriminating  selection  of  the  "Essays  written  in 
favor  of  the  new  constitution,  as  agreed  upon  by  the  federal  con- 
vention, September  17,  1787." 

HISTORICAL  ESSAYS 
By  Lord  Macaulay 

Selected  with  an  Introduction  by 
CHARLES  DOWNER  HAZEN 

Professor  of  History  at  Columbia  University 

A  group  of  the  better-known  historical  essays  which  includes  "John 
Hampden,"  "AViliiam  Pitt,"  "The  Earl  of  (Miatham,"  "Lord  Clive," 
"Warren  Hastings,"  "Machiavelli,"  and  "Frederick  the  Great." 

SARTOR  RESARTUS 
By  Thomas  Carlyle 

Edited  with  an  Introduction  by 
ASHLEY  THORNDIKE 

Professor  of  English  at  Columbia  University 

This  "Nonsense  on  Clothes,"  as  Carlyle  referred  to  it  in  one  entry 
of  his  journal,  reaches  into  all  the  human  realm  and  is  perhaps  the 
greatest  philosophical  expression  of  Carlyle's  genius.  Surely  there 
is  a  power  of  pure  thought  which  he  has  put  into  the  mind  of  Pro- 
fessor Tempelsdroch  and  a  charm  of  words  which  he  has  given  him 
fo  speak  which  he  has  nowhere  surpassed. 

A  glossary  in  this  edition  will  Ijc  of  invaluable  service  to  the 
student. 


THE  MODERX  STUDENTS  LIBRARY 

RUSKIN'S 
SELECTIONS  AND  ESSAYS 

With  an  Introduction  by 
FREDERICK  WILLIAM  ROE 

Assistant  Professor  of  English  at  University  of  Wisconsin 

"Ruskin,"  said  John  Stuart  Mill,  "was  one  of  the  few  men  in 
Europe  who  seemed  to  draw  what  he  said  from  a  source  within  him- 
self." Carlyle  delighted  in  the  "fierce  lightning  bolts"  that  Ruskin 
was  "copiously  and  desperately  pouring  into  the  black  world  of 
anarchy  all  around  him." 

The  present  volume,  by  its  wide  selection  from  Ru.skin's  writings, 
affords  an  unusual  insight  into  this  remarkable  man's  interests  and 
character. 

THE   SCARLET   LETTER 
By  Nathaniel  IIawthokne 

With  an  Introduction  by 
STU.MIT  P.  SHERM.VN 

Profr^tor  of  Enjtliih  iit  University  of  Illinois 

"  'The  Scarht  Letter"  appears  to  1)6  as  safe  from  competitors 
fis  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  or  '  l{<il)iris()n  Crusoe.'  It  is  recognized  as 
the  cla-ssical  lr<-;itm«'nt  f)f  its  particular  tlicme.  Its  syinliols  jind 
Hcenes  of  guilt  and  penitence-  the  red  letter  on  the  brea.st  of  IlcsttT 
Prynne,  Arthur  Dimmesdalc  on  tiic  scaffold — have  6xed  them.selves 
in  tlie  memory  of  men  like  the  figu-e  of  Crusoe  bending  over  tli<; 
f(><)lprints  in  tin-  sand,  and  have  become  a  [)art  of  the  common  stock 
of  images  like  Christian  facing  the  Hods  in  the  way. 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


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